SALMON AND TROUT MEMORIES 



particular monster, I remember, was led quietly behind the 

 boat for two hundred yards. " Not over twenty pounds," 

 I prematurely observed to Ole, as I prepared to step out of the 

 boat. Hardly were the words spoken when there came a 

 mighty rush that tore nearly all the line off my reel, and far in the 

 centre of the pool leaped high in the air one of the largest fish 

 I have ever hooked. A hundred and fifty yards away he looked 

 like a silvery porpoise. As he fell with a resounding splash 

 into the water the hold gave, the rod straightened, and Ole 

 and I, in profane and tempestuous silence, began another 

 harl. 



I have already mentioned the Gula River, in the valley of 

 which a friend and I for many years rented an elk-forest from 

 the Norwegian Government. We also came in for some late 

 September salmon fishing at the same time. I was going up 

 one day in 1903 to a farm at the head of our elk-forest, above 

 the upper Gula Foss, for elk-hunting purposes. Our road 

 took us along the river-side, and the sight of an ideal-looking 

 stream for salmon, some 200 yards below the deep fosspool, 

 to all appearance in excellent order, promptly impressed upon 

 my mind the stern necessity of providing fresh salmon steaks 

 for supper. Thought was promptly translated into action, 

 and I alighted from the carriole, sent Ole, the chef, and Hans, 

 my hunter, on to the farm, and descended alone to the rocky 

 river-bank, with a favourite nine-foot split cane trout-rod in 

 my hand, an old salmon-cast, and some Irish Erne salmon 

 flies in my pocket. 



Here the river ran fairly deep and rough — but not too 



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