Here was the way of it. I was auctioneer, you ken--but that was not enough to keep me from bidding myself. And so I worked them up and on--and then I bid in the flag for myself for a hundred pounds--five hundred dollars of American money. I had my doots about how they'd be taking it to have a stranger carry their flag away. And so I bided a wee. I stayed that night in Christchurch, and was to stay longer. I could wait. Above yon town of Christchurch stretch the Merino Hills. On them graze sheep by the thousand--and it is from those sheep that the true Merino wool comes. And in the gutters of Christchurch there flows, all day long, a stream of water as clear and pure as ever you might hope to see. And it should be so, for it is from artesian wells that it is pumped. Aweel, I bided that night and by next day they were murmuring in the town, and their murmurs came to me. They thought it wasna richt for a Scotsman to be carrying off their flag--though he'd bought it and paid for it. And so at last they came to me, and wanted to be buying back the flag. And I was agreeable. "Aye-I'll sell it back to ye!" I told them. "But at a price, ye ken-- at a price! Pay me twice what I paid for it and it shall be yours!" There was a Scots bargain for you! They must have thought me mean and grasping that day. But out they went. They worked for the money. It was but just a month after war had been declared, and money was still scarce and shy of peeping out and showing itself. But, bit by bit, they got the siller. A shilling at a time they raised, by subscription. But they got it all, and brought it to me, smiling the while. "Here, Harry--here's your money!" they said. "Now give us back our flag!" Back to them I gave it--and with it the money they had brought, to be added to the fund for the soldier boys. And so that one flag brought three hundred pounds sterling to the soldiers. I wonder did those folk at Christchurch think I would keep the money and make a profit on that flag? Had it been another time I'd have stayed in New Zealand gladly a long time. It was a friendly place, and it gave us many a new friend. But home was calling me. There was more than the homebound tour that had been planned and laid out for me. I did not know how soon my boy might be going to France. And his mother and I wanted to see him again before he went, and to be as near him as might be. So I was glad as well as sorry to sail away from New Zealand's friendly shores, to the strains of pipers softly skirling: "Will ye no come back again?"