My little capital was gone now, and the O’Dwyers had to be compensated for the loss of their home. I thought out my plans, and gathered together all the tradesmen in our little army, and put them to work. In a few days the cottage was repaired, and looked none the worse. By the way, the Black and Tans, at a later stage wreaked vengeance on it more effectively than the explosion of the grenades. O’Dwyer’s house was now out of bounds for my work, but in a very short time I got another house from a good typical Tipperary man, Jer. O’Connell. Here I was more successful, because I took greater precautions with my work. I guarded against another explosion; but other circumstances compelled us to evacuate it within a few months. During our stay in this house our condition was far from happy. Of bodily comforts we had none. We had neither bed nor bed coverings, and worse still, we had no money wherewith to buy them. We got a loan of a couple of blankets from neighbours, and we commandeered some straw from the nearest farmer. First we spread out the straw on the ground and covered it over with one blanket. We then spread over us a lot of old newspapers (which we carefully collected every day), and over these we placed our second blanket. The paper was excellent for keeping us warm, and by not turning out of one position we usually got about three hours’ sleep. As soon as we moved, the paper tore and the cold quickly worked its way through. Still greater discomfort than our bed was caused by the presence of mice! The little beggars were very numerous and very daring. Many a night we were wakened by their nibbling at our hair. Whenever I protested, in action as well as in words, Sean Treacy would plead—“Ah, the poor little creatures! They might as well be happy when we can’t. Don’t be vexed with them, Dan, even if they take a little of your black hair.” I argued that it was enough to have the peelers after us, and that if the mice had any decency they ought to leave us alone. For some time things went on smoothly, and our work progressed pleasantly. Then my partner, Keogh, left me, and I was joined by Sean Hogan—whose life for the next five years was to be very closely linked up with mine. The two Seans and myself seemed to have but one mind—I have never had any difference with Hogan up to the present day, and never had an angry word with my dear old comrade—Sean Treacy—up to the day of his death. It was during our sojourn in O’Connell’s house that we were joined by Seumas Robinson, later elected Deputy for East Tipperary and Waterford. Robinson, who had lived a good part of his life in Glasgow, at once became a fast friend. The four of us—Treacy, Hogan, Robinson and I—seemed perfectly balanced in temperament, age, outlook and hopes. Many an ambitious plan we made, and many a dream we dreamed of the Free Ireland for which alone we now lived and worked.