They admired
the church on the hill at Holland Landing, and the schoolmaster told his
friend of a big anchor that had got stuck fast there on its way to the
Georgian Bay in 1812. "I bet you the sailors wouldn't have left it
behind if it had been an anchor of Hollands," said Coristine, whereupon
Wilkinson remarked that his puns were intolerable. At Bradford the track
crossed the Holland River, hardly flowing between its flat, marshy banks
towards Lake Simcoe. "This," said the schoolmaster, "is early
Tennysonian scenery, a Canadian edition of the fens of Lincolnshire,"
but he regretted uttering the words when the lawyer agreed with him that
it was an of-fens-ive looking scene. But Lake Simcoe began to show up in
the distance to the right, and soon the gentlemanly conductor took their
tickets. "Leefroy," shouted the brakesman. They gathered up their
knapsacks, dropped off the smoker, and sped inside the station, out of
the windows of which they peered cautiously to see that no attempt at a
pursuit was made by the ladies and their military protector. The train
sped on its way northward, and feeling that, for a time, they were safe,
the pedestrians faced each other with a deep-drawn sigh of relief.
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