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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 149642 | 2020-12-10 23:57:03 | 88.10 | 98% |
| 148103 | 2020-11-18 05:11:58 | 84.41 | 98% |
| 122465 | 2019-10-21 21:25:50 | 83.48 | 97% |
| 113533 | 2019-06-13 06:45:29 | 80.63 | 97% |
| 112319 | 2019-05-23 04:44:02 | 79.70 | 97% |
| 111894 | 2019-05-17 20:15:56 | 80.66 | 97% |
| 99673 | 2018-12-07 22:01:30 | 79.57 | 97% |
| 84747 | 2018-06-12 20:35:03 | 82.60 | 97% |
| 81169 | 2018-04-17 20:31:55 | 90.17 | 99% |
| 80587 | 2018-04-10 22:56:32 | 75.92 | 97% |