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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 3855 | 2020-07-22 17:07:15 | 63.33 | 95% |
| 3842 | 2020-07-22 16:23:09 | 75.22 | 98% |
| 3123 | 2020-07-08 16:24:52 | 61.21 | 96% |
| 2507 | 2020-02-18 09:02:37 | 68.89 | 97% |