Marvelous as they are, however, these forms and outlines excite even less astonishment than the wealth of coloring in which they are arrayed. Composed largely of clay, solidified by pressure, and converted into terra-cotta by the slow combustion of underlying masses of lignite, each dome and pyramid and mimic castle is encircled with chromatic bands presenting vivid and startling contrasts. Huge petrifactions and vast masses of scoria contribute to the weirdness of the scene, and, as if to complete its plutonic appearance, smoke goes up unceasingly from unquenchable subterranean fires. It is a mistake to suppose that these lands are worthless for agricultural or stock-raising purposes. The valleys and ravines are covered with nutritious grasses, and thousands of cattle may be seen grazing where the buffalo and other herbivorous wild animals were wont to roam in days gone by. The term "Bad Lands" is a careless and incomplete translation of the designation bestowed upon the country by the early French _voyageurs_, who described it as "_mauvaises terres pour traverser_." At the crossing of the Little Missouri, the Marquis de Mores, a wealthy young French nobleman, has established the headquarters of an extensive stock raising and dressed meat shipping business. From this point, Medora, excursions may be made to Cedar Canon, one of the most interesting localities in the Bad Lands; or to the burning mine, where may be seen, raging, perhaps the most extensive of the subterranean fires of the entire region. It is also a good point from which to start out on hunting expeditions, large game being by no means exterminated. Sixteen miles beyond the Little Missouri, the train passes Sentinel Butte, a lofty peak rising precipitously from the plain on the south side of the railroad. One mile more and the Montana boundary is crossed, at an elevation of 2,840 feet above sea-level. In crossing the great Territory of Dakota, the tourist has traveled 367 miles; in traversing that of Montana, he performs a journey of no less than 800 miles, almost equivalent to the distance from New York to Indianapolis. Fortunately, the luxurious appointments of the train render weariness well nigh impossible, and the trip hourly becomes more interesting and enjoyable. At Glendive, 692 miles from St. Paul, the road enters the valley of the Yellowstone, the windings of which famous river it follows, more or less closely, for 340 miles. The valley, from five to ten miles in width, is inclosed by high bluffs of clay and sandstone, their curious formations occasionally reminding the traveler of the Bad Lands, though they have but little variety of color.