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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 31408 | 2019-09-02 23:15:44 | 87.04 | 97% |
| 31277 | 2019-09-01 12:45:37 | 88.76 | 96% |
| 23813 | 2019-03-27 09:45:58 | 70.43 | 96% |
| 21134 | 2018-12-06 12:19:21 | 71.73 | 97% |
| 7975 | 2018-06-04 12:57:17 | 69.34 | 97% |