VIEW OF BEAR BUTTE, AT A DISTANCE OF FORTY-SIX MILES FROM THE ROAD, IN FAN-TAIL GULCH.
There are many interesting points within a few miles of Deadwood; for aside from the rugged character of the scenery, in the near vicinity are several of the largest wealth-producing mines in the world. The trip to Bald Mountain over the Fremont, Elkhorn and Missouri Valley narrow-gauge Road is one filled with pleasure and surprise. The way is almost incomparably winding, and exhibits remarkable examples of engineering skill and enormous investment. In several places the grade is four hundred and thirty feet to the mile, while the curves are said to be of one hundred and fifty feet radius. Passing up such grades and around such sharp turns, it is not so surprising that the train should in one minute be running along lofty benches, apparently in mid-air, over dizzy trestles, and in the next few moments be scurrying through a valley so deep that sunlight rarely ever visits it. North of Bald Mountain, and reached by a stage-line, are Crow Peak, Round-Top Mountain, and the town of Spearfish. This latter place is located on a creek of the same name that goes tumbling through a deep cañon with vertical, serrated walls, and diversified by roaring cascades and far-leaping waterfalls. Returning to Deadwood, we took the Burlington and Missouri River Railroad south through another long stretch of turbulent scenery, of rushing creeks, darksome gorges, under the shadows of lofty mountains, and by curious formations. Custer Peak is only two or three miles east of the road, and it is the center of a riotous region of broken stone, each one a very mountain of itself. Below, we strike Spring Creek, and go bowling along the valley cut out of the bills by that stream, until Harney’s Peak breaks into view, five miles to the east, and lifts its piney crest into the azure depths 8,000 feet. Hereabout are not only waterfalls, cañons, creeks, and huge bowlders dashed down from frost-riven peaks, for besides gold and silver, the region is said to abound with tin, that peculiarly elusive mineral which, though often found, seems to always dematerialize after the campaign is over; and though millions have been spent in developing the tin mines near Harney, the product has not yet paid the expense of mining. Three miles south of the peak are the Needles, bold-jutting pinnacles of sandstone that stand high above the bed of Squaw Creek and point their fingers toward the sky. Buckhorn Mountain stands very near the west side of the road, and close to its base reposes the town of Custer, the center of a broken district called Custer Park, famous for its scenery of river, tumultuary and distorted rocks over which a weasel can hardly make its way. A little further south we enter Red Cañon Creek, where the same general character of eroded and disrupted rocks continues, with occasional exhibitions of oddity exceeding those previously seen in the Hills. Evidently some terrific force has been at work in this uncanny region, for here and there our wonder is excited by extraordinary instances of displacement. Beecher Rocks are comicalities done in stone, but Wedge Rock must wear the garland as the most astounding example of natural tumult in this wonder-region, and which can be better understood by the accompanying illustration, than explained by the bare use of words.
HARNEY’S PEAK, BLACK HILLS.—A general view of this famous mountain from the valley where this photograph was taken does not show the wonderful formations of the rocks on its summit and sides so well as closer special views do; but it is sufficiently picturesque to be entitled to a place in this representative work on American scenery. The picture, however, exhibits the extent and magnitude of the mountain, whose head is raised high above the timber line, in the region of perpetual snow.
WEDGE ROCK, NEAR CUSTER CITY.—This immense rock, weighing thousands of tons, found a lodgment, where it is photographed, after a terrific plunging descent from near the top of the mountain, whence it was riven by some mighty convulsion. The path of its terrible fall is still discernible, in seams and abrasions on the face of the mountain, and in contemplating it one cannot refrain from regretting that he was not present to witness such an awe-inspiring and dreadful exhibition. It was a scene which might have frightened even the imperturbable gods of the hills.
