Having “done” Yellowstone far more comfortably with the car in three days than we could have in six without it, we left on the fourth day for Glacier. The road improved vastly as we entered Montana. Both the Red and Yellowstone Trails were well made and kept in excellent condition. We skimmed over a beautiful country. Bold and free hills, soft brown in color and the texture of velours spread below us. The road curved just enough for combined beauty and safety, and was well marked most of the way. We mistakenly chose the shorter route to Glacier Park entrance, instead of taking the more roundabout but far more beautiful drive through Kalispell. It is a mistake most motorists make sooner or later, in the fever to save time. But to compensate we had a glimpse of Browning, half Canadian, its streets full of Indians, half-breeds and cowboys dressed almost as gayly as the redmen and their squaws. Some garage helper there made the usual mistake of saying “left” and pointing right, with the result that our prairie road suddenly vanished and we were left in the midst of a ploughed track which had not yet fulfilled its intention of becoming a road. For the next twelve miles to the Park we went through wild gyrations, now leaping stumps, now dropping a clear two feet or more, or tilting above a deep furrow or a tangle of roots. Once more we marveled at the enduring powers of the staunch old lady. Glacier Park is not primarily a motorist’s park, as is Yellowstone. An excellent highway runs outside the Park along the range of bold peaks that guard the Blackfeet reservation, and an interior road connects the entrance with St. Mary’s Lake and Many Glaciers, the radiating point for most of the trail rides. To run a machine past these barriers of solid peaks would be nearly impossible, yet there are still extensions of the mileage of motoring roads which can and probably will be made. Tourists with their own cars can do as we did, cover what roads are already accessible, then leave their car at Many Glaciers. There they can take the many trail trips, either afoot or on horseback, over the glorious passes from which the whole world may be seen; climb ridges and cross mountain brooks, ice cold from melting glaciers; or look down from Gunsight or Grinnell or Mt. Henry into passes where chain after chain of exquisite lakes lie half a mile below.