m
told, to clear forest-land after it has been cut over. It is not a
project, this Northwestern farming, to be undertaken on a shoestring.
The wilderness must be conquered. It cannot be coaxed. And a good many
hearts have been broken in making that discovery. A little money--not
too little--infinite patience, cheerfulness, and red-blooded
effort--these are the factors which are conquering the Northwest.

I like the Northwest. In spite of its pretensions, its large cities, its
wealth, it is still peopled by essential frontiersmen. They are still
pioneers--because the wilderness encroaches still so close to them. I
like their downrightness, their pride in what they have achieved, their
hatred of sham and affectation.

And if there is to be real progress among us in this present generation,
the growth of a political and national spirit, that sturdy insistence on
better things on which our pioneer forefathers founded this nation, it
is likely to come, as a beginning, from these newer parts of our
country. These people have built for themselves. What we in the East
have inherited, they have made. They know its exact cost in blood and
sweat. They value it. And they will do their best by it.

Perhaps, after all, this is the end of this particular adventure. And
yet, what Western story is complete without a round-up?

There was to be a round-up the next day at Kalispell, farther south in
that wonderful valley.

But there was a difficulty in the way. Our horses were Glacier Park
horses. Columbia Falls was outside of Glacier Park. Kalispell was even
farther outside of Glacier Park, and horses were needed badly in the
Park. For last year Glacier Park had the greatest boom in its history
and found the concessionnaires unprepared to take care of all the
tourists. What we should do, we knew, was to deadhead our horses back
into the Park as soon as they had had a little rest.

But, on the other hand, there was Kalispell and the round-up. It would
make a difference of just one day. True, we could have gone to the
round-up on the train. But, for two reasons, this was out of the
question. First, it would not make a good story. Second, we had nothing
but riding-clothes, and ours were only good to ride in and not at all to
walk about in.

After a long and serious conclave, it was decided that Glacier Park
would not suffer by the absence of our string for twenty-four hours
more.

On the following morning, then, we set off down the