Theoretically, I have always agreed with the Quaker wife who reformed her husband - Whither thou goest, I go also, Dicky dear. What thou doest, I do also, Dicky dear. So when, the year after our marriage, Nimrod announced that the mountain madness was again working in his blood, and that he must go West and take up the trail for his holiday, I tucked my summer-watering-place-and-Europe-flying-trip mind away (not without regret, I confess) and cautiously tried to acquire a new vocabulary and some new ideas. Of course, plenty of women have handled guns and have gone to the Rocky Mountains on hunting trips - but they were not among my friends. However, my imagination was good, and the outfit I got together for my first trip appalled that good man, my husband, while the number of things I had to learn appalled me.