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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 22310 | 2019-01-28 10:21:45 | 89.85 | 98% |
| 20715 | 2018-12-26 10:44:47 | 84.96 | 96% |
| 20711 | 2018-12-26 09:11:03 | 82.08 | 96% |
| 20585 | 2018-12-23 16:51:08 | 96.06 | 98% |