ELK-HUNTING IN NORWAY 117 



to wet the line, almost at my feet, at the very first 

 cast, a good half-pound trout rose, was hooked, and 

 landed. Ivor burst into cheery laughter, and his 

 doubts on the subject of fly fishing disappeared. A 

 good breeze sprang up, and two hours' fishing from 

 the usual leaky Norwegian boat resulted in a bag 

 of sixteen trout averaging ^ pound. After a frugal 

 lunch on the shores of the lake the rod was laid aside 

 for the rifle, and the elk-hunting syndicate renewed 

 active operations. Rover had been restless all the 

 morning, evidently, as I thought, bored by the fishing. 

 But within 100 yards of the lake, under the hill 

 before mentioned, we came on the fresh tracks of 

 a good bull. He had fed here this very morning, 

 and in all probability was not far away, as Rover's 

 keen instinct had doubtless already ascertained. We 

 followed slowly on the fresh track, which gradually 

 took us round and then up the steep hill. Here the 

 bull had stripped the leaves of the birch-twigs ; there 

 he had stepped up a rocky bank 6 feet high, apparently 

 without an effort. Presently Rover led us, so to speak, 

 from scent to view. We were on a ledge or terrace 

 of the hill, and in front of us was an extra thick grove 

 of fir. Through and beyond it I caught sight of 

 a movement of gray hair, and then to the right, in 

 more open forest, appeared a great bull elk, galloping 

 swiftly and noiselessly away. He had heard us, and, 

 of course, promptly remembered a pressing engage- 

 ment on a distant hill. It was a quick chance at 

 about 90 yards, and for a moment or two I had 

 a fair view of his off-side quartering from me. I 

 drew a quick bead and pressed the trigger. 



As the report of my first barrel rang through 

 the woods, the bull suddenly turned at the shot and 



