TROUTING IN THE TELEMARK. 
169 
These fish had the sense to swim free, thus rendering it 
necessary to kill them in detail. To land No. 3, while 
two beaten fish already encumber the intervening line, 
needs some little care. 
Ten miles down the valley, near its confluence with 
the Tinsjo lake, the river divides into several rushing 
streams, separated by wooded islets and beds of shingle. 
Here the trout ran larger, but the water was deep and 
strong, and many beautiful streams were inaccessible. 
The thick trees along the banks also rendered casting- 
difficult, especially as the best time was after dusk. 
Trolling on the Tinsjo produced some heavy fish, large 
flies proving more attractive than spinning-baits. One 
night I went out to see the “ otter ” in operation; but 
after witnessing the massacre of eight noble trout at a 
single haul, I had had experience enough to last my 
lifetime. It was, nevertheless, very delightful on the 
lake at midnight, with its soft subdued light, and the 
faint rosy blush in the north, which never entirely 
died away. About one o’clock each morning the low 
soliloquizing croak of the mergansers was heard as they 
flew to and fro across their fishing-grounds. Shortly 
afterwards the small birds commenced their version of 
the Benedicite , and then came the tinkle of the goat- 
bells far up on the fjeldside. 
There were beautiful lakes and large trout on the 
higher fjelds above, and we enjoyed one memorable 
evening up there; but suffered several blanks, when a 
blazing sun and rippleless surface forbade hope. On one 
of these nights, while returning, we came on the spoor 
of two elk, one a big bull, quite fresh, the moisture still 
oozing into the deep shafts that the heavy beast had 
