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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 8934 | 2018-10-08 03:14:37 | 144.15 | 99% |
| 6569 | 2018-07-05 14:18:37 | 124.18 | 98% |
| 4989 | 2018-06-02 13:06:08 | 126.37 | 99% |
| 4189 | 2018-04-21 10:48:31 | 119.06 | 98% |
| 3640 | 2018-04-17 07:22:08 | 121.31 | 99% |
| 2271 | 2018-03-21 13:59:57 | 120.33 | 98% |