A Woman Tenderfoot | Page 2

learn appalled me.
In fact, the first four months spent 'Out West' were taken up in learning
how to ride, how to dress for it, how to shoot, and how to philosophise,
each of which lessons is a story in itself. But briefly, in order to come
to this story, I must have a side talk with the
Woman-who-goes-hunting-with-her-husband. Those not interested
please omit the next chapter.

II.
OUTFIT AND ADVICE FOR THE
WOMAN-WHO-GOES-HUNTING-WITH-HER-HUSBAND.
Is it really so that most women say no to camp life because they are
afraid of being uncomfortable and looking unbeautiful? There is no
reason why a woman should make a freak of herself even if she is
going to rough it; as a matter of fact I do not rough it, I go for
enjoyment and leave out all possible discomforts. There is no reason

why a woman should be more uncomfortable out in the mountains,
with the wild west wind for companion and the big blue sky for a roof,
than sitting in a 10 by 12 whitewashed bedroom of the summer hotel
variety, with the tin roof to keep out what air might be passing. A
possible mosquito or gnat in the mountains is no more irritating than
the objectionable personality that is sure to be forced upon you every
hour at the summer hotel. The usual walk, the usual drive, the usual
hop, the usual novel, the usual scandal,--in a word, the continual
consciousness of self as related to dress, to manners, to position, which
the gregarious living of a hotel enforces--are all right enough once in a
while; but do you not get enough of such life in the winter to last for all
the year?
Is one never to forget that it is not proper to wear gold beads with crape?
Understand, I am not to be set down as having any charity for the
ignoramus who would wear that combination, but I wish to record the
fact that there are times, under the spell of the West, when I simply do
not care whether there are such things as gold beads and crape; when
the whole business of city life, the music, arts, drama, the pleasant
friends, equally with the platitudes of things and people you care not
about--civilization, in a word--when all these fade away from my
thoughts as far as geographically they are, and in their place comes the
joy of being at least a healthy, if not an intelligent, animal. It is a
pleasure to eat when the time comes around, a good old-fashioned
pleasure, and you need no dainty serving to tempt you. It is another
pleasure to use your muscles, to buffet with the elements, to endure
long hours of riding, to run where walking would do, to jump an
obstacle instead of going around it, to return, physically at least, to your
pinafore days when you played with your brother Willie. Red blood
means a rose-colored world. Did you feel like that last summer at
Newport or Narragansett?
So enough; come with me and learn how to be vulgarly robust.
Of course one must have clothes and personal comforts, so, while we
are still in the city humor, let us order a habit suitable for riding astride.
Whipcord, or a closely woven homespun, in some shade of grayish
brown that harmonizes with the landscape, is best. Corduroy is pretty,
if you like it, but rather clumsy. Denham will do, but it wrinkles and
becomes untidy. Indeed it has been my experience that it is economy to

buy the best quality of cloth you can afford, for then the garment
always keeps its shape, even after hard wear, and can be cleaned and
made ready for another year, and another, and another. You will need it,
never fear. Once you have opened your ears, "the Red Gods" will not
cease to "call for you."
In Western life you are on and off your horse at the change of a thought.
Your horse is not an animate exercise-maker that John brings around
for a couple of hours each morning; he is your companion, and shares
the vicissitudes of your life. You even consult him on occasion,
especially on matters relating to the road. Therefore your costume must
look equally well on and off the horse. In meeting this requirement, my
woes were many. I struggled valiantly with everything in the market,
and finally, from five varieties of divided skirts and bloomers, the
following practical and becoming habit was evolved.
I speak thus modestly, as there is now a trail of patterns of this habit
from the Atlantic to the Pacific coast. Wherever it goes, it makes
converts, especially among the wives of army officers at the various
Western posts where we have been--for the majority