It was, of course, very good to learn that there really were elk in
the neighbourhood, but it only made me the more unhappy at having to
leave the country. George, who had no Boy Scouts demanding his
presence, was going to stay on there, so everything that made me more
sad made him all the happier--the unfeeling brute!
Still, I can't complain. I think in the few weeks that I was in Norway
I had had as good a time as anyone could possibly have. There is no
better fun on earth than living in the open and catching and cooking
your own grub, in doing mutual good turns with a good comrade in camp,
and in recognising God's handiwork in the mountains and forests around
you.
* * * * *
HOW TO FISH.
George and I would have gone pretty hungry in our camp and on our
tramps while in Norway had we not both been able to catch fish, for
there was little else in the woods to eat besides blue-berries (we
were now too high up for the wild raspberries which are so good in the
valleys).
Every Scout must know how to fish, otherwise he would feel so silly if
he died of starvation alongside a stream full of trout.
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