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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 29352 | 2020-11-22 21:36:10 | 100.05 | 97% |
| 23367 | 2020-09-10 03:01:57 | 91.19 | 96% |
| 19683 | 2020-07-24 03:58:14 | 95.71 | 97% |
| 12346 | 2020-04-19 04:45:57 | 83.26 | 95% |
| 12069 | 2020-04-17 02:48:50 | 70.97 | 95% |
| 10331 | 2020-04-08 21:23:59 | 75.90 | 94% |
| 8674 | 2020-03-27 21:01:17 | 75.74 | 96% |
| 1614 | 2019-12-09 01:06:18 | 79.44 | 96% |
| 428 | 2019-11-10 23:02:28 | 72.19 | 95% |