Late in the afternoon of a day in the early part of last December I had ridden out from our lines in Ladysmith towards a certain position usually occupied by a Boer outpost, trusting by my going out deliberately and unarmed to get one of the men there to have a talk, just as one of the Lancers had a few days previously. For some time we had been on short rations of "copy" as well as food. I rode along the edge of an empty spruit, into the bed of which my spurs would have propelled my horse in the unlikely event of a shot being my first greeting.
| Game | Time | WPM | Accuracy |
|---|---|---|---|
| 8298 | 2019-07-19 15:54:33 | 115.42 | 99% |
| 5237 | 2019-01-30 10:46:26 | 113.10 | 98% |
| 1886 | 2018-10-08 13:31:48 | 110.41 | 99% |
| 1131 | 2018-09-13 15:04:32 | 106.33 | 99% |
| 402 | 2018-09-03 10:56:51 | 108.50 | 98% |
| 257 | 2018-08-31 12:09:33 | 109.98 | 98% |