We enter a deep narrow gully, our feet sinking deep in moss and mould, trip over a hidden root and, looking back, see a magnificent rhinoceros beetle which we have disturbed, feebly kicking his six legs in the air. In these deep valleys the air is saturated with reeking odors—woody, spicy and mouldy and altogether delightful. Moss grows on the stems of the plants like wide radiating fans of delicate green lace. In these places we find the commonest palms which grow near Hoorie—stemless, with fronds springing fern-like from the ground. Leaving the vicinity of the trail we start out through the heart of the jungle, keeping by compass in a general northwest direction. Here the trees increase in size and grow almost thirty feet apart, the intervening space being filled with lesser growth, parasitic lianas and huge ferns eight to twelve feet in height, tree-ferns in size but not in mode of growth. The rain now increases and we plod happily along drenched to the skin, giving ourselves up to the delight of a walk in a tropical downpour. Serenely oblivious of pools and dripping branches, we trudge along until finally a tacuba over a creek breaks with our weight and we splash in up to our waists. Indeed we had long ago become accustomed to such drenchings, for during our stay at Hoorie the days were alternate sunshine and shower. In starting out for a long tramp we never thought of taking any protection against the rain. The only thing to be shielded was the precious camera. What matters a wetting when one is perfectly dressed for whatever may happen! A word must be said here from the woman’s point of view about the costume which was adopted as being absolutely suited to the bush life. In the first place it was light—so light that one never felt the burden of a single superfluous ounce of weight, and when thus freed from the drag of heavy clothing one would come in unfatigued from tramps which would have been impossible for a woman in orthodox dress, no matter how short the skirt. But in the light khaki knickerbockers, loose negligee shirts of scotch flannel or fibrous cellular cloth, stockings and tennis shoes and a water-proof felt hat, one was ready for anything. If soaked by a sudden downpour, a few minute’s walk in the sun would dry one; if walking difficult tacubas, or clambering over huge fallen trees, of which there were any number throughout the forest, or climbing precipitous and slippery hills one was never hampered by unsuitable dress. Of course there are many wildernesses where it is unnecessary for a woman to wear knickerbockers and where there is no reason why she should defy public prejudice by doing so; but the woman who attempts to tramp through the South American jungle will find that safety and comfort make them absolutely essential. One realized as never before with what handicaps woman has tried to follow the footsteps of man; with the result that physical exhaustion has robbed her of all the joys of life in the open.