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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 28286 | 2020-09-15 00:56:37 | 143.97 | 98% |
| 23292 | 2019-04-15 20:33:52 | 129.51 | 98% |
| 21743 | 2019-03-06 03:31:29 | 121.77 | 96% |
| 14958 | 2018-10-21 09:16:23 | 136.27 | 98% |
| 13691 | 2018-10-04 23:17:48 | 125.38 | 97% |
| 12268 | 2018-09-21 09:30:28 | 135.89 | 98% |
| 5806 | 2018-08-12 19:22:22 | 113.00 | 97% |
| 249 | 2018-07-07 08:10:10 | 107.45 | 97% |