This first military display of ours in Tipperary was not a bigger shock to the enemy than it was to the local Sinn Feiners; for you must understand that by this time public opinion had swung round almost completely in favour of Sinn Fein, and we were burdened with thousands of recruits, who were not in their hearts in favour of any stronger weapons than resolutions. On this occasion many of the local Sinn Feiners were shocked by our audacity in taking the step we did without a solemn discussion, a formal proposition to the meeting, and a long-winded resolution. Such poor souls often hampered us later on, but we didn’t mind. The purely political wing of Sinn Fein criticised us severely, I believe, but we kept silent, just listened to all, and judged our men. CHAPTER II. PREPARING FOR THE FRAY. The local police duly informed their headquarters of this open defiance of British law in Tipperary. They were ordered to arrest the culprits. But, as we had no desire to enjoy the hospitality of His Britannic Majesty’s jails, Sean Treacy and I went “on the run,” that is to say, in order to evade our pursuers we had to leave our homes, and keep moving from the house of one trusty friend to another. But on the Friday following our public parade, Sean was arrested by the “Peelers.” Members of the R.I.C. were better known in Ireland for generations as “Peelers,” a term of contempt coined from the name of Sir Robert Peel, who, in the early part of the nineteenth century first organised the force. Sean was taken to Cork Jail where he first met the brothers Brennan, of Meelick, County Clare, who were also unwilling guests of the British jailers. The three brothers Brennan—Austin, Paddy and Michael—afterwards became famous officers in the Southern Command of the Irish Republican Army, and at present hold high ranks in the Free State Army. In passing I should say that in throwing men into prison at that time England was really giving them an excellent opportunity of exchanging views, discussing plans for the future and generally turning the prison into a “University for Rebels.” Many indeed learned more about drill, and the methods of making explosives, while they were in prison than they had ever before known. Sean was eventually tried by court-martial, and sentenced to two years imprisonment, but sixteen months of the term were remitted. These trials were, of course, a mere formality, for our men never put up any legal defence, but declined to recognise the right of any British tribunal to try them. Very often in the early stages our men turned the proceedings into a farce by reading a newspaper or singing while the evidence was being taken.