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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 25492 | 2020-11-20 06:20:47 | 118.61 | 97% |
| 20919 | 2020-09-20 05:07:13 | 118.12 | 98% |
| 16436 | 2020-07-08 21:31:37 | 111.86 | 98% |
| 13590 | 2020-04-17 22:19:21 | 88.65 | 97% |
| 10704 | 2020-03-13 12:33:59 | 101.30 | 98% |
| 6868 | 2019-07-19 18:38:01 | 91.95 | 96% |
| 6715 | 2019-07-17 23:03:33 | 101.37 | 98% |
| 5001 | 2019-05-26 21:42:22 | 87.36 | 96% |
| 3542 | 2019-05-02 01:58:35 | 86.67 | 97% |