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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 58352 | 2020-08-03 11:39:19 | 113.71 | 96% |
| 53949 | 2020-07-09 22:03:50 | 117.46 | 97% |
| 44340 | 2020-05-22 23:21:59 | 125.82 | 98% |
| 44195 | 2020-05-22 02:23:50 | 122.82 | 98% |
| 40460 | 2020-05-03 22:44:59 | 99.41 | 97% |
| 34006 | 2020-03-28 21:34:25 | 118.79 | 99% |
| 30402 | 2020-02-28 22:44:53 | 135.12 | 99% |
| 26913 | 2020-01-04 08:23:22 | 112.93 | 97% |
| 1783 | 2018-12-21 11:08:17 | 108.25 | 97% |