At Lackelly we called upon our old friends, the Maloneys, and right heartily we were welcomed. When we were discussing our plans, while enjoying a warm and much needed breakfast, May Maloney offered her services in any way she could help, and gladly we accepted her offer. She became our despatch rider for the occasion, and I do not know how we could have got along without her help. It was she who went to Thurles that morning, and sent us word that Hogan was still there. The Maloneys’ house, by the way, was later destroyed by the Black and Tans, and both May Maloney and her brother Dan were imprisoned during the recent war. By 10 o’clock on the morning of May 13th, we had completed all arrangements for the rescue of Sean Hogan. CHAPTER XI. THE RESCUE AT KNOCKLONG. As I have said, we arrived at Emly at 3.30 a.m. The first train on which the prisoner might come was not due till noon. When all was in readiness a few hours before noon we waited eagerly for the arrival of the men from Tipperary town in response to our request. As the hour approached we grew anxious and restive. The minutes grew into hours. Eagerly our eyes scanned the road from Tipperary, but no cyclist appeared. What had happened? We could not let ourselves believe that the help we needed so badly was not at hand. Eleven o’clock—still no reinforcements. The minutes travelled all too fast now. Half-past eleven came, and still no sign. And the train was due at 12! But we were not going to let Sean Hogan be taken away without a fight. We knew that the escort, armed with rifles, bayonets and revolvers, would consist of four to eight policemen, but it was possible that other policemen or soldiers would be on the same train. We could only fail. At 12 o’clock the three of us rushed up to the station just as the engine steamed into the platform. In my hurry I dashed right into an old woman at the entrance. To save her I had to throw my arms around her. The two of us were swung round and round by the force of the collision, and I finished what must have looked like a dance by falling heavily to the ground. Unfortunately, there was no time for explanations or apologies, and I don’t know whether the poor woman ever heard yet the explanation of the collision. Before she could even see my face, I was up again and racing along the platform with my finger all the time on the trigger of the revolver. But there was no prisoner! We were sadly disappointed. In a sense, too, we felt a little relieved for there would be still time to seek help before the next train was due. But waiting is always the hardest part of any fight; suspense is more severe than action.