A small number of us, including Sean Treacy, were cycling home from Tipperary, when my bicycle went flat, and I had to dismount to pump it up. I ordered the others to go ahead, saying I would overtake them. On their way they passed the police barrack on the outskirts of the town. It would seem that the police heard them passing the barrack, and came out to have a look round; or else they were actually on the road when the men passed, and, with their usual courage, were afraid to confront the six Volunteers. Anyhow, I neither heard nor saw anybody when I had pumped up my bicycle, until I was suddenly pulled off by a burly Peeler. In my left hand I carried a small iron bar for forcing locks, so I tried its effect on his head. The bar got the better of the argument. I then drew my revolver, and covered the group of peelers. “Surrender, or I shoot,” shouted their officer. “Put up your hands, or I’ll shoot the lot of you,” I replied. They complied with my order. I then stepped backwards, rolling my bicycle, and still keeping my gun levelled at the peelers, until I reached a laneway. I dashed up the lane, mounted my bicycle, and escaped from the town not a moment too soon. The alarm was quickly raised, and the whole town was surrounded, and every street and lane searched. But I was safe in my factory with my comrades. CHAPTER IV. OUR FACTORY BLOWN UP. My most exciting experience was to see our munition factory blown into the sky. I had a narrow escape, for I was within fifty yards of the door; but my partner, Paddy Keogh, had an even more wonderful escape, for he was actually on the premises when the explosion occurred. We never knew what brought about the havoc. I had gone out to a well to fetch a can of water, for necessity compelled us to do all our own cooking and cleaning. As I was returning to the cottage, I saw the roof leaving it, and simultaneously came the roar of the bursting grenades. In a moment the house was in flames. It was a desperate situation. My one thought was to save my comrade, if indeed he was not already beyond human aid. I dropped the can of water and rushed to the house. I dashed up the stairs and found Paddy lying in the room either dead or unconscious. I raised him in my arms and carried him with a heavy heart through the rain of shrapnel down the stairs and out of the house, and away to the banks of the Multeen, a little stream not far away from the house. My heart was wrung with anguish as I laid him by the stream and rushed for my can to throw some of the fresh clean water over his pale countenance. Before I had time to try the effects of a second supply, Paddy was on his feet and rushing for me—very much alive! “You damn fool, do you want to drown me?” he shouted. And then he added a lot more that I prefer not to repeat. The destruction of our house was a heavy blow, and for a while we mourned the loss of our little factory and its contents.