“Indade,” said the friend, poking me over the appendix, “it’s our boys I would like to see dressed out like this. Give me the military, I sez, and not they Black-and-Tans. It will be a grey day for Ireland whan she sees the last iv the military.” “Sure,” said the first dame, “it is our boys will be all in green then, and that’ll be a grander sight for ye.” “Och!” exclaimed a second friend, making use of my toes to see better, “the Black-and-Tans came to us the other day, and I was sitting over the fire. ‘Who’s there?’ I sez at the bang on the door. ‘Open, the military!’ sez they. ‘I will not,’ I sez. ‘We’ll have to break in,’ sez they. ‘Break away,’ I sez, ‘I don’t have to pay for it,’ I sez. ‘It’s the landlord as does,’ I sez.” The funeral passed, the crowd dissolved; for some reason I wandered about the streets without going home. In course of time I was surprised to find it had got dark. I came across College Green, sauntered up Grafton Street, which was crowded. The mud was shining as usual, and the paper boys were shouting some catastrophe. I had come to the corner of Wicklow Street when a man turned quickly into it from Grafton Street. He was in the shadow, but I knew him anywhere. I overtook him in a stride or two. “Good night,” I said. “I saw you,” 47 answered, “but I was in a hurry. Come my way a little.” He slowed up. The street was dark and nearly empty. “They didn’t get you?” “We saw no sign of them.” “How’s your wife taking it?” “She’s right enough. She’s been a bit jumpy because we’ve no arms. I’m off to the Central Hotel now to see my ‘cousin.’ Most of our lot have been called into the Central. My wife says she won’t stick it any longer unless I have a gun, so I’m off to see about one.” “I don’t wonder at her.” He nodded. “The last few days have been pretty worrying.” “You people aren’t going into the Central?” “We’re banking on the chance we aren’t suspected. If we go into the Central it won’t do us any good when we come out.” “I see that.” I think 47 was rattled that evening in spite of his matter-of-fact words. At this time a man had to cope not only with his own fear, but with the national fear that was suffocating everybody, so that each man had to bear more than his own share. There was a touch of bitterness, a touch of philosophy, and more than a touch of pathos in 47’s voice as we walked along the gloomy street. “We chaps last just as long as we are undiscovered. Discovery may take place to-day, to-morrow. A man may make a slip; but if he makes a slip he probably knows what he has done. But somebody else may have made the slip. He may leave his Sinn Fein friends in smiles; he may go back to cold faces. This state of things plays the devil with the nerves.