74 
WILD NORWAY. 
salmon were lethargic. Once, just at midnight, some¬ 
thing rose, and for a few seconds fought hard, then at 
once collapsed. A two-pound trout had taken a big 
Jock Scott. Up to the penultimate day of May, all 
our fish had been cocks, with an average weight of just 
under 16 lbs. apiece. But on May 30 th, the run of 
hens commenced, and we got two that night, rather 
under 10 lbs. each. These little she-fish were desperate 
fighters, rushing in mad and reckless flurry all over 
the pool, jumping half a dozen times in succession now 
above, then below, thus slacking the line, then bringing 
it up taut with a bang—in short, one never knew where 
we had them. One of them fairly beat me, going off at 
racing speed from right underfoot, thus succeeding in 
breaking the gut by the jerk when the slack was taken 
up. Though she was only a ten-pounder, she carried 
off a brand new Jock Scott, and a foot of best single 
gut—the only fish, by the way, that fairly secured a 
trophy ! Of course, I should have held back some loose 
line in hand, but—^yell • these she-tactics puzzle one, 
and besides it was 2 a.m., and we had fished con¬ 
tinuously since five the morning before. Another hen- 
fish ran herself right ashore, and I gaffed her jumping 
about among the stones full three feet above water-level, 
and barely a couple of minutes after she was hooked. 
It is, I believe, an axiom that running fish will not 
take; we, however, raised several and hooked two 
(both hens) in the small hours of June 1st, hanging in 
the slack water at the pool-tails, and evidently resting 
after struggling up the stream below—at any rate these 
fish were not there a few hours before. At three 
-o’clock that morning we twice observed heavy fish in 
