20 A RIVER OF NORWAY 



water, has put a bit of a belly into my line, 

 and I am unable to get a steady pull at him 

 until too late. As he passes the fatal rock, 

 my line comes back to me minus the ex- 

 cellent Wilkinson and a yard of gut. But we 

 learn by suffering, and the next big fish that 

 shows any tendency to run up into that mael- 

 strom, will find that he is being held very 

 tight indeed. As a rule the fish that en- 

 deavour to make for the deep holes under the 

 Fos are fish that have been there already ; 

 the absolutely fresh-run fish show, on the 

 other hand, an inclination to run back to the 

 fjord which they have just quitted. It is now 

 between twelve and one, the darkest hour of 

 the night, if it can be called dark when one 

 can see to tie a fly on. So I put up a big 

 Black Doctor, which as a night fly in clear 

 weather I have found unequalled. Half-way 

 down the pool I am into another, which 

 makes a magnificent head-and-tail rise as he 

 takes the fly. This, to my mind, is the 

 supreme moment of angling ; to see a big fish 

 rise over, and come down upon the fly, and 

 after a moment of intense suspense, during 

 which one must restrain the inborn longing 



