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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 7244 | 2020-01-31 02:18:04 | 76.27 | 94% |
| 6592 | 2019-02-16 04:21:07 | 74.21 | 96% |
| 6170 | 2019-01-07 01:38:47 | 90.49 | 97% |
| 5627 | 2018-12-02 20:27:04 | 77.14 | 95% |