Early the next morning they started out with their simple luggage, in Ford cars, to drive to the entrance of the Park where they would change into the larger sight-seeing conveyances at the convenience of the public. To the girls, and to John Hadley, who had never been over this part of the country before, every detail was interesting. They watched for buffalo trails, for Indian graves, for extinct volcanoes, and for the queer little prairie-dog towns--barren wastes with tiny mounds every few feet apart, into which the small animals disappeared when the machine approached. They passed huge ranches; saw lofty mountains in the distance, whose summits were streaked with snow. Once it seemed to be raining on a distant hill, but overhead the sky was bright and clear. The girls talked little during this ride, so interested were they in the strangeness of the scenery. Mr. Hilton noticed this, and smiled to himself; if they found this country fascinating, what would they think of the Yellowstone? Mr. Hilton had planned for the party to enter the Park by way of Mammoth Springs, for by so doing, the girls would see the small geysers first, and gradually work up to the great ones. He wanted to impress upon their youthful minds a wonderful picture that would never be forgotten. They stopped at a large hotel outside the Park for supper, planning to remain there over night. Everyone was tired and in no mood for sight-seeing; a good night’s rest would prepare them for the marvels they were about to behold on the morrow. Marjorie settled herself comfortably on the porch after the meal was over, thinking happily of the pleasant time to come. She was to have nine days of rare pleasure, seeing beautiful sights, among people that she loved. And she had to admit to herself that John Hadley’s presence added not a little to the joy of her anticipation. She believed she was having the time of her life.