138 HAPPY HUNTING-GROUNDS 



torrent swept the boat round a bend into the last 

 pool of the beat Hoi pool. The last rapid was an 

 exceedingly difficult one to negotiate when the river 

 was low, as boulders projected out of the white water 

 in every direction, and I have known occasions when 

 Ole preferred to leave me on the bank, and guide the 

 boat down without the weight of a passenger in the 

 stern, although he never refused to negotiate it him- 

 self. Hoi was a deep pool full of large fish, and after 

 all the parts accessible from the shore had been care- 

 fully fished, there still remained a deep stretch just 

 above the next line of rapids between the wooded 

 bank and a line of submerged rocks over which Ole 

 used to linger lovingly with the boat, as it was the 

 last and almost the best chance for a big fish. From 

 this point it was about two and a half miles by road 

 and field to the house, and I used either to hire a 

 pony and trap from the farm, or stroll gently home as 

 the spirit moved me. The farmer used as a matter of 

 course to collect the boats early the next morning, 

 and cart them back to their proper places at the tops 

 of the pools. I sometimes passed them in my morning 

 strolls, and have a snapshot of his pretty little children 

 enjoying the opportunity for a ride in the boat. 



I generally managed to get back for an eight 

 o'clock dinner. The old stagers, who had spent more 

 than a generation in Norway, used to shake their 

 heads over my incorrigible habit of daylight fishing, 

 and my neglect of the orthodox Scandinavian practice 

 of turning night into day, and only fishing at all when 

 the sun was off all the pools. I was well aware that 

 I could have secured a much greater bag if I had 

 followed their example in this respect, but I got quite 



