that are
practically unknown. Probably the area is more nearly a thousand square
miles. And this does not include the fastnesses of the range itself. It
comprehends only the slopes on the west side to the border-line of the
Flathead River.

The reason for the isolation of the west side of Glacier Park is easily
understood. The park is divided into two halves by the Rocky Mountain
range, which traverses it from northwest to southeast. Over it there is
no single wagon-road of any sort between the Canadian border and Helena,
perhaps two hundred and fifty miles. A railroad crosses at the Marias
Pass. But from that to the Canadian line, one hundred miles, travel from
the east is cut off over the range, except by trail.

To reach the west side of Glacier Park at the present time, the tourist,
having seen the wonders of the east side, must return to Glacier Park
Station, take a train over the Marias Pass, and get out at Belton. Even
then, he can only go by boat up to Lewis's Hotel on Lake McDonald, a
trifling distance. There are no hotels beyond Lewis's, and no roads.

Naturally, this tremendous area is unknown and unvisited.

It is being planned, however, by the new Department of National Parks to
build a road this coming year along Lake McDonald. Eventually, this
much-needed highway will connect with the Canadian roads, and thus
indirectly with Banff and Lake Louise. The opening-up of the west side
of Glacier Park will make it perhaps the most unique of all our parks,
as it is undoubtedly the most magnificent. The grandeur of the east side
will be tempered by the more smiling and equally lovely western slopes.
And when, between the east and the west sides, there is constructed the
great motor-highway which will lead across the range, we shall have,
perhaps, the most scenic motor-road in the United States--until, in the
fullness of time, we build another road across Cascade Pass in
Washington.

II

THE BIG ADVENTURE

Came at last the day to start west. In spite of warnings, we found that
our irreducible minimum of luggage filled five wardrobe-trunks. In vain
we went over our lists and cast out such bulky things as extra
handkerchiefs and silk socks and fancy neckties and toilet-silver. We
started with all five. It was boiling hot; the sun beat in at the
windows of the transcontinental train and stifled us. Over the prairies,
dust blew in great clouds, covering the window-sills with white. The Big
Boy and the