We continued along the left bank of the river Sakaria, a rapid stream, sixty yards wide and with steep banks; presently we crossed it on a stone bridge, very much out of repair. The centre part had fallen away. This had been replaced by wooden beams covered with loose earth. Presently we came to a large valley abounding with corn, vines, and mulberry-trees, and I halted for the night in the village of Geiweh. The Mudir, a sort of local mayor, came out to meet us, and insisted that I should be his guest. He was a very communicative man, and informed me that Yakoob Khan was about to bring an army of 50,000 men to assist the Sultan. "How will he come?" I inquired. "By the sea," remarked my host, his geographical knowledge about Kashgar not being very extensive. He next informed me that Persia was supposed to be very friendly towards Russia, and that the Turks hated the Persians, but liked the Christians, with the exception of the Greeks, whom they believed to be in league with the Tzar. Shortly after leaving Geiweh, the valley takes a circular form, and is at least three miles in diameter; hills with slopes well adapted for artillery fire surround it on every side. The little stream Kara Su, which is only knee deep, traverses the district, and finds its way a few miles further down into the Sakaria. The Geiweh valley would be a magnificent position into which to entice a careless general. The exit towards the east is by a steep ravine with precipitous banks, and on the west it is blocked by the Sakaria. We now reached Terekli, a small town with about 800 houses. Every house was full of soldiers, who were _en route_ to the capital. The sun was descending over the mountain tops as we rode through the narrow streets. Hundreds of Bashi Bazouks were performing wild evolutions in the plain below; some men were firing at a target from horseback at a gallop, others whirling their rifles about to the imminent danger of the bystanders. The many coloured dresses of this guerilla soldiery and of the lookers-on, lit up the surroundings of the landscape. The wild shouts of the horsemen re-echoed over the mountains. From the distant peaks the bleating of the goats could be faintly heard, as the shepherds were driving them home for shelter. This sound was mingled with the lowing of cattle and the rippling of the stream below. It was a romantic picture. It vividly recalled to my mind some scenes in the Basque provinces during the late Carlist war.