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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 5349 | 2020-10-06 13:45:15 | 113.36 | 97% |
| 4730 | 2020-09-16 01:15:27 | 99.83 | 96% |
| 4504 | 2020-08-29 20:07:47 | 116.73 | 98% |
| 171 | 2019-11-06 21:08:42 | 98.21 | 97% |