246 
WILD NORWAY. 
forms the main watershed, the streams on the near 
side flowing into Sweden, those beyond into Norway— 
the head-waters of the Sandola. Here, amidst miles of 
dark forest, we had got beyond the Lapp, for no broad- 
antlered deer could traverse these woods; but their 
very density was a new obstacle—it was often impos¬ 
sible to see fifty yards. The favourite lying-grounds of 
elk were not in the spruce-wood, but in the depth of 
those dank, dark thickets, where sallows, birch, and 
willow crowded in, a million to the acre, shooting up¬ 
wards from an undergrowth of hazel, juniper and fern. 
My first day here I saw four elk, but never fired a 
shot. Here is the record. 
Started by boat, 3 a.m. We had hardly entered the 
woods when we struck fresh spoor : but the elk (a five- 
year bull) having gone down-wind, we left him and 
within half-an-hour walked right into another good bull. 
At the moment we happened to be crossing the wind, 
and therefore had no notice. There was but a single crash 
among dense birch-saplings forty yards ahead, a glimpse 
of one horn, and a patch of grey stern—that was all. 
He was gone: a rabbit could hardly have vanished 
more suddenly, silently, invisibly. We followed the 
spoor to get his line for future guidance, and two hours’ 
later came on game again. This time a bark-stripped 
pine was the index. White and naked, the tree stood 
by an open bog, skinned clean to a height of seven feet. 
Strips of “ velvet ” lay mingled with the chips and 
shreds of bark below, and by the spoor we saw that a 
truly enormous bull, accompanied by a cow and calf, 
had that morning cleaned his horns against the pine. 
This trail we followed all day, mostly through very 
