ing more than a rock
which could be cleared; but on looking down I saw that the bottom had
been a regular trap for sunken logs, and as I looked down into the
water I saw the fish, a silvery, clean-run fellow of about 8 lb.,
fighting his hardest at the end of the line, which sawed and sawed
until it parted. I recovered most of the cast, but the fish had got
away with my bonny Jock Scott and the last strand. This was very
sickening, for we might have had a nice bag to take home; but it was
not to be, and in somewhat subdued spirits we fastened up the boat, got
our baggage together, and walked homeward. Still, it was a typical
experience of casting from a boat, and Knut and myself had the pleasure
of carrying home in the net, I holding the handle and he the rim, a
salmon of 13 lb., and grilse of 4 lb., 3 1/2 lb., and 3 lb.

This, I may say, was the day when I hooked and played fifteen fish, of
which only five were caught. I dreamed about that fraudulent dark
water and its hidden logs, and in the searching sunlight of the next
day went over to examine. It was most artful of the salmon to take the
course he did, for I found that he had run under what was virtually a
spar of about 10 ft. long, with each end resting on a rock; below it
was a nice little interval of 18 in. of water, under which a salmon
could run.

CHAPTER XVI

SOME CONTRARIES OF WEATHER AND SPORT

At my first visit to Norway in 1899 I was greeted with days of roasting
heat, with roaming thunder growling incessantly in the mountains. The
angler fresh from England, out of training with his salmon rod, and
with the precarious rocks and boulders for foothold, gradually discards
his clothing; the coat is shed first, then probably the collar and
scarf, then the waistcoat. Some underclothing goes next. In two days
the heat sufficed to stick together in hopeless amalgamation all the
postage stamps in my purse, and I have at last discovered that the
haberdashery goods warranted fast colours, and paid for as such, leave
confused rainbow hues upon every vestige of attire after a good
Norwegian sweat.

All this will signify to the initiated that fishing during the six
middle hours of the day is out of the question. It is not the case
that salmon will never take in glaring sunshine, but it is the
exception rather than the rule, and the game is decidedly not worth the
frizzle. It means, moreover, that the rivers are low, and it may be
stated that they