THE PILGRIMAGE TO GOATLAND 5 



is like a smoothly shaven lawn. On hundreds of square 

 miles of it, we see not a tree, nor a bush as thick as a pen- 

 holder. More than this, there is no rank grass, and the 

 earth looks as if it were covered with a vast and all- 

 pervading sheet of cocoa matting. Upon it, a jack-rabbit 

 looms up to enormous proportions, — or would if there 

 were one left to loom. 



It is from this smoothly shaven and almost level 

 world of brown-gray that the three peaks of the Sweet- 

 Grass Hills rise suddenly and sharply out of the plain, 

 without a vestige of intervening foot-hills. Rising as 

 they do, they seem lofty, steep-sided, black and even un- 

 canny. From certain points you see that they stand on a 

 wide and almost level bench, like three mineral speci- 

 mens on a thin pedestal. Notice particularly the bench 

 that joins the western side of the most westerly peak. 

 Miles and miles to the westward, it rises very abruptly, 

 and with its top almost level, it runs up toward the peak 

 without the slightest break in its upper line. These Hills 

 are about forty miles from the railway, and for fully 

 one hour the train glides along seemingly due south of 

 them. 



The Great Northern reaches the main range of the 

 Rocky Mountains at Midvale, and the transition from 

 plains to mountains is made quite abruptly. Here the 

 Rockies are not in the least like those crossed by the 

 Union Pacific, — so modest and uneventful you scarce 

 know where they begin or leave off. You can plant your 

 foot on the very spot where these begin; and from that 

 spot they tower up to the heights of your imagina- 



