"Ah those prats in the Royal Mounted Police..." the words sprayed from Hans' mouth as if the very air itself was stained in bloody disdain, "such nasty fellows are they. Why, they wear woolen underwear. Bohemians, really".
Klimmingstock eyed the lad as if for a moment to be a bit concerned, but then moved on, "Yer, yer. Prats dey ah, but prats dat wid bonk yer noggin if dey take dee notion. E'en more dan deez hooligans."
For a brief moment, Timmy was transported to a time in the Yukon, a time that was before his lovely Elsa decided to take up with one of the Mounties and become the house maid in a way station somewhere in the Northern-most of the North country, but he was quickly brought back to reality by some a delivery boy clanging the bell on his bicycle. Timmy thought it odd that the boy was carrying a broad-sword sheathed on the handle bars, and reapeatedly yelled the phrase "up the inuits".
"Peculiar, eh Doctor? I wonder what that was about?".
Klimmingstock shrugged "probably zee anarchy of some kind...der nozes are always out of dee joint about der sumthin. Poor inuits. Yer know, dey kiss wid der snoots. But enough - we moost git yer out of dis place toota sweeta."
Timmy breathed a deep breath as if to bolster his fortitude and allowed the good doctor to help him board a carriage bound for the Institute.