CHAPTER XXVI 



MY last visit to the land of Vikings, salmon, fieldfares 

 and " clegs," was, as far as the second named is 

 concerned, a complete and unholy wash-out ; but it had 

 its compensations and humours, some of which may be deemed 

 worthy of inclusion in these rambling reminiscences. 



I can imagine some readers who are without intimate 

 experience of Scandinavian fauna asking themselves : " What 

 are " clegs " ? 



I will tell you. 



A cleg is a sort of super-gadfly : a fearsome fowl about as 

 big as a Queen wasp, with great, goggling, green eyes and a 

 gargantuan appetite for human flesh. One has to be con- 

 tinually on the qui vive when a cleg is about, otherwise, after 

 buzzing around in an apparently innocent manner, this 

 horrific creature will seize the opportunity when one is busy 

 with the rod to suddenly drop on one's neck, bite out a 

 chunk of flesh, fly away, perch on an overhanging bough 

 and gorge itself to repletion on the reeking rations and this 

 in front of one's very eyes ! 



When in search of a likely Norwegian salmon river, it was 

 my custom to pay a visit to Messrs. J. A. Lumley's, where I 

 knew that good Mr. McDowell would provide me with the 

 best goods at the moment on the market. 



I had been on the Sand (twice), the Surendal and the Nam- 

 sen, and now was anxious to extend my experiences. 



" Look here," said the agent, " will you do a little pioneer 

 work ? I cannot promise you a stone-cold certainty of 

 success. On the other hand, there is a good sporting chance 

 of your having the time of your life 1 



"It is this way. We have bought up all the nets and traps 



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