"They ran over the police," said Bland. "I don't think they killed many. There wasn't any shooting. The whole thing was done with a rush. Damned well done. You couldn't call it a charge. The police were drawn up in the middle of an open space where four or five roads met. The men kind of flowed over them. When the place was clear again, there weren't any police. That's all. Ah! here's the whisky!" He was evidently thirsty for he drank the whole tumbler-full at a draught. "What about Moyne?" I said. "What did he do?" "Oh! He stood up on the back seat of a carriage and began to make a speech. But that didn't matter." "What did he say?" "I don't know. I didn't stay to listen. I expect he urged them not to kill any one. But it does not matter what he said. The men with rifles, the volunteers, began to march off at once, in good order, some in one direction, some in another. In five minutes there wasn't anybody left to listen to Lord Moyne except a few corner boys. I can tell you this, Lord Kilmore, there's a man with a head on his shoulders behind this insurrection. He has those men of his holding all the most important parts of the town. I got hold of a bicycle--" "How?" I said. "You're very wonderful, Bland. How did you get a bicycle in the middle of a battlefield?" "Stole it," said Bland. "It belonged to a policeman, but he is probably dead, so he won't mind. I rode after two or three different parties of volunteers just to see where they were going. When I got back to the place of the meeting there was a body of cavalry trotting up. I had a sort of feeling that the battle would come this way. It ought to. This is the most important place in the town. All lines of communication meet here. Your side has brains enough to see that. The question is, will the soldiers attack them here? I chanced it. If there's any good fighting to-day it ought to be here." I am not sure whether the General in command of the troops had the brains to recognize that the post which Bob Power held was the key to the whole situation. He did a good deal of desultory street fighting in other places, and though he made a strong show of attacking Bob Power in the end I think he was drawn into it by accident. Bland lit a cigarette, and he and I stood at the window watching. A crowd of men appeared at the far end of the street, running in wild disorder. They ran quite silently with bent heads and outstretched hands. Behind them, immediately behind them, came a squadron of dragoons galloping. As the fugitives turned into the street the soldiers overtook them and struck right and left with their swords. They were using the flats, not the edges of the blades. The fugitives staggered under the blows. Some of them stumbled and fell; but I do not think that any one was seriously hurt. "Lord Moyne's audience," said Bland. "The corner boys. There's not an armed man among them."