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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 16021 | 2019-11-14 08:33:36 | 87.28 | 98% |
| 13315 | 2019-07-18 01:07:27 | 86.14 | 98% |
| 7257 | 2018-12-02 21:46:52 | 89.73 | 98% |
| 4235 | 2018-06-12 06:11:33 | 77.56 | 98% |
| 2924 | 2018-04-19 01:38:20 | 90.78 | 98% |