TROUT-FISHING IN SWEDISH LAPLAND. 71 



and now and then a great rock broke the surface. 

 The tackle was all ready a small, glittering spoon 

 with a yard of gut, a short pliant rod, and one hundred 

 yards of line. We were on the bosom of the rapid, 

 within twenty yards of the edge, where the waters 

 toppled over and sank rushing away. This was far 

 enough, so I directed Sandstrom to row up against the 

 current, while I let out the bait with twenty yards of 

 line. In a few minutes the rod made a terrific lunge, 

 and I felt that a fish like a salmon was at the end of 

 my line. In the unexpected suddenness of his attack 

 and the excitement of almost my first really large fish, 

 Olaf had, through sheer amazement, ceased rowing, 

 and we were nearly swept down the cataract, and 

 the fishing prematurely put a stop to. Fortunately, 

 the big fish was well hooked, and made for the lake, 

 whither we followed him, after some hard pulling 

 against the current ; and towing him, after a stubborn 

 fight, inshore, trailed him across the stones a spotted 

 monster just over seven pounds. 



We had a long and dangerous row still before us ; 

 so there was no rest for the wicked, and, after a 

 moment's breathing time, we were at it again. This 

 time Olaf took care to keep well above the current, 

 while I let out rather a longer line. Hardly had the 

 bait reached the " breast" of the rapid when there 

 was a heavy swirl in the water just where the bait 

 was scintillating, and the whirr of the little trout 

 reel told us that another rapacious victim had 

 attached itself to the lure. 



