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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 67147 | 2020-10-16 21:47:16 | 108.66 | 98% |
| 65902 | 2020-09-09 17:37:52 | 107.26 | 98% |
| 61727 | 2020-03-27 01:09:56 | 113.79 | 99% |
| 54889 | 2019-08-17 00:44:49 | 111.31 | 98% |
| 46706 | 2019-03-20 20:43:36 | 105.38 | 98% |
| 46705 | 2019-03-20 20:41:08 | 89.10 | 97% |
| 42918 | 2019-01-17 02:08:52 | 102.63 | 97% |
| 28438 | 2018-07-17 22:41:01 | 104.20 | 98% |
| 25327 | 2018-06-12 02:01:49 | 101.43 | 97% |
| 20650 | 2018-03-28 23:28:30 | 97.31 | 97% |