With a prayer for the soul of our departed comrade we mounted our bicycles and faced for the city. We had scarcely started when Seumas Robinson found that his bicycle was broken and useless for the journey. Jumping on the back of Sean Treacy’s machine he balanced himself with one foot on the step and held on to Sean’s broad shoulders. But with two men on a bicycle speed is slow, and never were we in greater need of a speedy return to safety. In our dilemma we espied a cyclist approaching us from the city. He was walking and wheeling his bicycle, evidently having alighted when he heard the battle in progress. In war most things are fair and the temporary seizure of his machine was not against our rules. Robinson had his gun still in his hand. Jumping from the step he presented his revolver at the stranger and ordered him to hand over his bicycle. The order was complied with. We always liked to cause as little trouble as possible to civilians and even in our haste that afternoon Seumas did not forget his duty to the owner of the bicycle. He assured him that if he called to the Gresham Hotel that evening his machine would be forthcoming. I do not know whether the man ever got his bicycle; I hope he did. Anyhow it was left near the door of the hotel that same evening as Seumas had promised. We returned to the city safely. I was now feeling weak from the loss of blood, and went at once to Mrs. Toomey’s house on Phibsboro’ Road, on the north side of the city, and one of the first streets one meets in the city when returning straight from Ashtown. I believe the police and military later that day traced my blood-stains from Ashtown along the Cabra Road, but fortunately they lost the trail near the city. Mrs. Toomey was very kind to me. I was at once put to bed and a doctor was sent for. I was attended by Dr. J. M. Ryan, then famous as the Captain of an All-Ireland hurling team. A doctor from the Mater Hospital, which was only a few hundred yards from my resting-place also attended me. That evening Dublin rang with the newsboys’ cry of “Attack on the Lord Lieutenant—Sensational fight at Ashtown—One of the Attackers shot dead!” And then I got a shock that almost drove me mad. Lord French had escaped unhurt! It was true. We had failed. For the first time the Viceroy had travelled not in the second car but in the first. The car which we had scarcely bothered about and which we had only wanted to frighten off actually bore safely away the man we wanted. The news made my wound worse. I never liked half done jobs, and here we had not even half done our work. Sean Treacy took the disappointment philosophically. His motto was always to make the best of things. His consolation to me was, “You can’t always have Knocklongs, Dan.”