Part 20 (1/2)

You remember that George and I went to Jasjvold Saeter in order to get some ”reeper,” and also to explore the gorge of which we had heard.

As you get higher up above the level of the sea, the nature of the country and of the plants changes. In the lower level you get trees and bushes and flowers very much like those in England, but as you rise higher nothing but fir trees, pines, and birch trees seem to grow. Then as you get up a bit the fir trees come to an end, and you find only small birch trees, after which there are no trees.

You come out on the open moorland where there is heather, like that in Scotland, and other small shrubs, one of which would interest boys because it grows a very nice little fruit called ”blue-berries.” Above the heather, that is, at a height of over 4000 feet, you get what is called moss. This is really a kind of lichen like you see growing on trees at home, a pale, yellowish-white, spongy kind of plant, which seems to thrive on barren, rocky mountain sides, and forms feed for the reindeer which run wild in these parts.

Well, George and I used to go out from the Saeter directly after breakfast each day, carrying our ruksacks on our backs, and one of us a gun and the other a fis.h.i.+ng rod in his hand. And the dogs went with us. In our ruksacks we carried a kettle, some bread, b.u.t.ter, and coffee, and a change of shoes and stockings, for what with wading through streams and stepping into bogs we were pretty wet about the feet before the day was ended.

On the first day we went and discovered the head of the gorge, high up on the mountain side, and each day after that we explored a new bit of it till we had followed it down to where it opened on to the valley at its foot.

The gorge was a deep cleft in the mountain-side of dark, frowning cliffs, with a bright, clear mountain stream running along among the rocks and stones at its bottom.

THE TROUT STREAM.

The farmer had told us there were no fish in this stream, and n.o.body ever fished there. However, I thought I might as well use my rod, having brought it all the way there, so, pretending to myself that there was a fish in a swirling little pool behind a great rock, I crept and crawled to a spot from which I could, unseen by the fish, throw my fly so that it could float quietly in the current and be carried round the corner.

The first attempt from my crouching position was not a good one; the line did not go out far enough, and merely got into a backwater and drifted in close to me so I shortened it up by pulling in a handful or two, and then shot it out again over the water.

This time it fell well out, the thin gut cast falling lightly as a cobweb on the surface, and then sliding off with the current close round the edge of the rock; and just as it went out of sight there was a sudden tug and a steady hold on it! A rock 1 No. The next moment there was a rush and a strain, the rod bending over and showing that a really nice fish was on.

[Ill.u.s.tration: OUR DAILY EXCURSION.]

I won't tell you all the joy that followed in playing the fish till he was exhausted, and then leading him to a smooth shallow, where, having no landing-net, I could draw him steadily and quickly from the water and up the shelving rock without breaking the delicate line. But I got him! And after him we got many more, enough for all our meals. It was a delightful trout stream, and I could only wish that every Scout in the world were there to enjoy it, too.

One particular run of water pleased me particularly. The stream rushed through an opening between some rocks, and then gradually opened over a gravelly bed in a long, rippling current. The ”tail of the run,” as they call it, is the place to expect fish, so I fished quickly over the rapid part of the run, and went more gingerly when I got nearer to the ”tail,” making my fly visit every inch of the water, and I was quickly rewarded.

A sudden ting like an electric shock on my rod, and a heavy rus.h.i.+ng and jerking hither and thither, till gradually the fish exhausted himself, and I was able to hold him and gradually tow him up on the shelving beach. Out of that one pool we got no fewer than fourteen trout that day! Of course, we only kept those we wanted for food, and slid the others back into the water, alarmed, but not hurt.

STALKING.

After a few miles the gorge got deeper and deeper and more and more narrow, until it ran between high cliffs which could not be climbed, and the stream became a torrent running between the high rocks, so that progress was impossible along the bottom.

We were, therefore, obliged to keep up on the mountainside above the cliffs and make our way along in the same direction as the gorge, occasionally looking down into it to see its wonderful scenery.

On steep parts of the mountain we had to clamber along as best we could, and sometimes it was jumpy work, where, if you kicked aside a loose stone, you could see it go bounding away down into the gloomy gorge below. At other times we were walking on beautifully soft moss, into which our feet sank for several inches; in fact, after a time, with a good load on our backs we began to wish it was not quite so soft! But it made our going very quiet and silent, and we kept a sharp look-out for game.

At one time George was leading the way when we came to a slight rise in front. Like a good scout, he never came to a rise without checking his pace and peeping very carefully over it before going on. This he did more from habit than from any expectation of seeing anything the other side, but it is a most valuable habit, and one which every good scout has. On this occasion it proved its value.

George dropped flat on the ground, and, taking the warning from him, I, too, ”squatted” at once, and made the dogs lie down. I did not know whether we had an elk or rabbit in front of us, but presently George crept back to me and reported that there were some duck on a pool a short distance ahead.

He, being the gun-bearer, then started to stalk these duck by going a long way round, keeping behind hillocks and rocks until he could get near enough to be within shot of them. It took him a long time.

[Ill.u.s.tration: ”George dropped flat on the ground, and, taking the warning from Him, I, too, squatted at once, and made the dogs lie down.”]

He had a good look at the ground first from our hiding-place, and he noted any peculiar rocks or bushes which would serve as guides to him while he was carrying out his stalk, and off he went, creeping and crawling from one landmark to the next, until at last he wriggled up to the bush which he had guessed would bring him within shot of the birds.

When he got there, he peeped through the stems of the bush, and found that it was not so close as he had hoped--it was scarcely within gunshot; but the duck had already some suspicion that all was not well. They are the cleverest birds alive; they had all stopped feeding, were looking anxiously about, and were beginning to swim away.

George saw that his only chance was to risk a long shot if we were going to have any dinner that day, so, pus.h.i.+ng his gun through the bush, he fired at the nearest duck, and, immediately jumping to his feet, he fired again at another, which by this time was on the wing--and he killed both.