48 In Pursuit of the Trout 



another. When at last the line was really- 

 free, both fish had ceased rising ; and as the 

 wind had by this time increased to the pro- 

 portions of a hurricane, we decided to put 

 up the rod and get back to the hut to lunch. 

 It went against the grain to leave the water, 

 but as fishing under such circumstances was 

 quite out of the question, we decided, after 

 lunch, to make a little pilgrimage to Demons 

 Dale, which lay hard by. 



Demons Dale is not unknown to North 

 of England anglers and tourists, though it 

 has not the fame of some of the larger 

 dales — such as Monsal — near at hand. So 

 wonderful a bit of scenery, in so small a 

 compass, is scarcely to be seen in the nar- 

 rowest and deepest of the Norwegian fjords. 

 The Dale is entered from below by a dark 

 footpath through a clump of firs, and though 

 within a short distance of the highroad, 

 no glimpse of it can be obtained till the 

 entrance, or mouth, is reached. It appears 

 to be, and possibly is, nothing more nor less 

 than a large crack, or fissure, in the hillside. 



