THE LITTLE MISSOURI BAD LANDS. 469 



it is certain that these regions are full of interest and attraction for 

 the traveler, the student, and the naturalist. 



Although Bad Lands are everywhere much the same thing, and a 

 discussion of one locality might seem applicable to all, yet there are 

 differences due, no doubt, to varying conditions in times long gone 

 by. It is not intended here to discuss these differences, but to speak 

 briefly of what may be seen in the valley of the Little Missouri River, 

 in Northwestern Dakota. 



This little stream, by courtesy a river, rolling its murky waters 

 northward and eastward for a distance of about two hundred miles, 

 near the line separating the Territories of Montana and Dakota, is 

 bordered by landscapes which in detail are without parallel, and in 

 general effect transcend the possibilities of description. As the vis- 

 itor approaches from the east, there arises suddenly before him from 

 the monotonous plain a wondrous array of myriads of hills and hillocks 

 hills of nearly uniform height, but of every conceivable shape and 

 form. Some are almost rectangular, with precipitous sides ; many are 

 conical ; many are dome-shaped ; some have the form of a frustum of 

 a cone, and, on the summits of some, perfectly conical heaps appear. 

 The greater number are flat-topped, and, rising to about the same 

 level, give the impression of some splendid rampart extending for 

 miles and miles along the horizon ; some slope up gently from a nar- 

 row valley for seventy-five or a hundred feet, and end in a lofty ro- 

 tund tower of naked sandstone. To all this diversity of form there 

 is added diversity of color. The sides of all these mounds are almost 

 verdureless, so that the absence of green is conspicuous, but almost 

 every other hue is represented. Colors occur in broad bands across 

 the faces of the hills red and gray and yellow and black, purplish- 

 blue and ashy and pink in an unending series of shades and tints. 

 Nothing is brilliant, but everything soft and beautiful. Here and 

 there, from a broader base, a hill towers away above all its surround- 

 ings, and becomes a landmark visible from afar. In the parlance of 

 the West such a landmark is called a butte,* and, if one has strength 

 and patience to climb the summit of a butte, surely his reward is great. 

 From no other point cVavantage on this continent does a man open his 

 eyes upon a panorama wilder or more weird. In one direction a thou- 

 sand motley heaps cover the plain like the tents of some wide-spread 

 army ; in another, the flat-topped mounds stretch away to meet the 

 horizon, and seem like the steps of some Giant's Causeway leading to 

 the sky ; while, as evening comes on and the sun goes down, the play 

 of colors, the shifting light and shadow present a scene in presence 

 of which the most prosaic must for the nonce feel the inspiration of 

 the poet. 



But, if this weird region is thus interesting to the ordinary tourist, 

 much more so is it to the student to him who seeks to know the how, 



* This term is also applied to a high hill of any sort, even to a mountain-peak. 



