This is the true story of Knocklong, condemned as it was at the time by archbishop, priests and press—the same people who, two years later, would have treated us as heroes and loudly boasted of “the freedom we had won.” Time works wonders! The heroes of the fight were Sean Treacy and the two O’Briens. In the next chapter I must tell of our equally exciting escape from the scene, and the story our rescued comrade had to tell when we clasped his hand again. CHAPTER XII. OUR ESCAPE FROM KNOCKLONG. Before describing our escape from Knocklong and the adventures which ensued, I must pause to outline the experiences of our comrade, Sean Hogan, since his arrest a few days before. They throw an interesting sidelight on the methods of the Peelers, though at that period these methods were not so cold-blooded and barbarous as they became within a year. When the dance concluded that morning at Ballagh, and when the rest of us had gone on to O’Keeffe’s for a sleep, Sean Hogan went up the road with Brigid O’Keeffe to Meagher’s, of Annfield. This was the same Meagher family at whose house we had had such a narrow escape a few months before, when the girl’s waving handkerchief warned us of danger. Miss O’Keeffe was a cousin of the Meaghers, and she had decided to go up to their house for breakfast. So sleepy was Sean that he actually fell asleep at the table. When breakfast was finished he took off his belt and revolver and lay down for a rest on a sofa. Mr. Meagher and his two daughters were at this time busy about the farmyard preparing to send the milk to the creamery. Sean was suddenly roused from his sleep by the warning shout: “The police are coming up the road!” He jumped to his feet, put on his belt, and went to the door, revolver in hand. The police had been seen a good distance off by the Meaghers, but Sean could not see them from the house. Assuming that they were coming from the north side he ran from the house in the opposite direction, along a field which is much lower than the level of the road. When he had got to the end of the field he thought he was now out of danger, put away his revolver, and jumped on to the road—into the arms of six policemen. They had, as a matter of fact, been coming from the south, and had got a full view of him as he ran along the field from the house. Sean was at once handcuffed and his revolver seized. His captors marched him back the road to Meagher’s, just as another section of the police raiders came out the door, having hurriedly searched the house. They did not recognise Sean, and he refused to give his name. Just as he was being removed Miss O’Keeffe came and shook hands with him, saying, “Goodbye, Sean.” That was the only part of his name they knew. They apparently took her to be one of the Meagher family, for had they recognised her as one of the O’Keeffes they would probably have come down the road to search her own house, where we were at the time.