We were more profuse in our thanks to the soldiers, assured them they need not push our car any further, and were very sorry to have them put to so much trouble. A moment later we waved them good-bye, and were dashing along the road to Foynes. I can assure you that the speed of our car was tested for the next quarter of an hour in case by any chance the obliging soldiers might get suspicious, and come after us to make enquiries. But Sean and I laughed heartily when we had left them behind. It was the first time since we had become outlaws that the British helped us to escape; it was not the last, for more than once I had reason to feel grateful to their stupidity in helping me out of difficulties when they little knew who I was. CHAPTER IX. OUR RETURN TO SOLOHEADBEG. That evening we reached our destination—the house of the priest to whom I have already referred. Here we got a right hearty welcome. No trouble was spared to make us feel happy and cheerful. The housekeeper—Molly—was like a mother to us. She was a bit of a dictator, too, where dictation was for our good. When she had given us a good hearty meal she ordered both of us to bed, where we remained for two whole days. Can you wonder that we felt loth to leave the blankets, with memories of newspapers, dirty straw and damp hay still fresh in our minds? After two days’ rest I felt fit and active again, but Hogan was still far from well. We can never forget Molly’s kindness during this time. No trouble was too great for her to make us comfortable. I believe it was her kindness and good cookery that really brought us to. And she was always good-humoured and cheerful. It was a tonic to hear her merry laugh, her banter and her bright homely talk. It was all so different to what we had been accustomed to for months. Up to this the people who spoke to us at all never raised their voices above a whisper. Sometimes we had to laugh when we saw the caution they exercised before giving any sign that they recognised us. Whenever we met an acquaintance on the road he looked behind, to the right and to the left, before saluting us. Many of them, I suppose, were afraid that if we were caught soon after meeting them they might lie under suspicion, and there is nothing an Irishman fears more than to be thought an informer. It was amusing to observe the frightened look that came into people’s eyes when they recognised us. Of course, there was often a good reason for their fright, for we were often several weeks without making the acquaintance of a razor. But one is not particular about personal beauty when there is an army at one’s heels, and ten thousand pounds on one’s head.