186 THE VALLEY OF ENCHANTMENT 



experience comes so often to dispel. My fish spent the 

 first five minutes marking time ; not sulking, but dodging 

 in a leisurely way among the submerged boulders at the 

 foot of the foss, resisting all the strain I could put upon 

 fine treble gut. Suddenly he changed his tactics: I 

 could almost hear him exclaim in horror ' By Thor and 

 Odin ! this must be a hook.' Turning sharp, he fled past 

 me, down, down, down, at great speed, to the very foot of 

 the pool, whence turning again he dashed at a^ tangent to 

 the far bank, and walloped on the surface. Still I could 

 not make out his proportions, though the boatman 

 muttered ' Big fish.' 



Thus the battle wore on, so long that I hoped his force 

 would not avail to let him seek another field; but the 

 hope was vain. Several times in his rushes he had 

 scoured round the very verge where the pool rolls out 

 into a long rough rapid; a last excursion carried him 

 over the verge, and down I felt he must go. Landing 

 with all speed, I prepared for the crisis of the struggle. 

 Fully a hundred yards of line were off the reel already, 

 but I had taken the precaution to add enough backing 

 to give me two hundred yards. Fast as I could follow 

 over a waste of boulders, the current bore the fish still 

 faster, and the line was running out by leaps and bounds. 

 The extreme danger at this place consists in the nature 

 of the channel. The bulk of water, leaping and tumbling 

 in grand breakers, rushes down under the cliffs on the 

 left bank. I was on the right bank, separated from my 

 fish by a labyrinth of side-channels, winding among huge 

 rocks. If the line could be lifted clear of all these, safety 

 might be gained in the great pool of Langhol, a hundred 

 yards below; but it is not easy so to handle a great 



