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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 4020 | 2020-05-19 16:58:20 | 111.54 | 99% |
| 3114 | 2020-04-28 19:22:38 | 125.32 | 100% |
| 2293 | 2020-04-22 23:38:21 | 123.39 | 99% |
| 2044 | 2020-04-21 03:33:03 | 106.21 | 98% |