HVILESTED, 1901 131 



had the support of the staff as I moved two short 

 steps down the stream, as I usually did before making 

 my next cast. In spite of all precautions an occasional 

 stumble was unavoidable, but the worst result I ever 

 experienced was the disagreeable sensation of having 

 my wading trousers filled with water. I carried a gaff in 

 my pocket ready to screw on to the socket, as I preferred 

 when it was possible to land my own fish, whether 

 sea -trout or salmon. My boatman, Ole Grodal, was 

 not a great hand at gaffing, and he had been taught 

 that it was right only to gaff fish in the head, which 

 I have always considered an unnecessary refinement. 

 I remember one occasion when I brought an exhausted 

 salmon up to him under Leding high bank, when with 

 a rapid stroke he severed the gut and let the fish go 

 free. I was angry, and he was sad, but in a few 

 moments I repented of my hot words and said, " Ole, 

 you may have that fish for yourself." He rose to the 

 occasion, thanked me, and asked whether he might 

 have the fly too ! As a boatman he was surpassingly 

 good, and knew it. 



Our method of fishing the water below the house 

 was to start from the top in a boat, shoot the boil- 

 ing rapids between the pools, landing at each, and 

 wading from the bank, and after thoroughly exhaust- 

 ing the possibilities of the shore, returning to the 

 boat to fish those parts of the pool which were 

 inaccessible from the bank. It was a breathless 

 experience at first to dash through the white water 

 studded with wicked-looking boulders, but familiarity 

 bred confidence. I soon looked forward to the 

 moments when I reeled up my line and sat looking 

 over the broad stern of the spade-shaped boat, as it 



