A magistrate happened to be at the barracks at the time, and insisted that steps should be taken to protect O’Brien and punish the savages who had beaten him, though the police told him that they were afraid that it was quite useless to try. However, the magistrate took O’Brien’s information, the case came on week after week at the Ballybor Petty Sessions, always to be adjourned at the request of the police, waiting instruction from the Castle. At last O’Brien, in despair, took his case to the local Sinn Fein Court; and here the chief offender was fined £27 and the others large sums, and they were warned that if they interfered with O’Brien again they would be dealt with very severely. And this is a good example of how British law protects a decent citizen in Ireland at the present time; but one forgets that the peace atmosphere must not be disturbed at all costs! But is there any wonder that the people are fast leaving the King’s Courts for those of Sinn Fein, and of their own free will now? Republican Local Government inspectors appeared in every district, and quickly ousted the King’s inspectors; held courts of inquiry on unfortunate road surveyors who had refused to take the oath of allegiance to Dail Eireann, and tried to sack loyal dispensary doctors. The chief amusement of the local gunmen on leave, and of their friends, male and female, was now to spend their time joy-riding through the countryside, flying Sinn Fein flags on their commandeered lorries and singing the “Soldier’s Song” whenever they passed any police or a barracks. One expedition of this kind went out to Ballyrick on a Sunday and returned to Ballybor about midnight. Blake happened to be passing down the main street at the time, and encountered a party of drunken bank clerks trying to see how much row they could make. Blake remonstrated with them, and told them that if they did not go home quietly he would have them arrested. One clerk at once started to sing the “Soldier’s Song” at the top of his voice, and another shouted at Blake in an insolent voice, “What about the truce, Mr B——, D.I.?” Blake saw red—he had borne and suffered much for many days,—and he gave the bank clerk a full drive on the chin which sent him flying. The whole party then swiftly retreated in silence. The following day Blake paid a visit to the bank, and said to the clerk he had ousted the previous night, “Look here, Mr Bank Clerk, don’t think I hit you last night because you were drunk. There’s a fine open yard at the back of the barracks, and if you will come round now, we can fight it out.” Abject apologies from Mr Bank Clerk, and Blake left the bank.