The Kizil Ermak—No bridge in the neighbourhood—How to cross the river—The current—Can my brother swim?—How to embark the horses—Osman's expostulation—Bandaging the horse's eyes—Yakshagan—Fresh post-horses—An uncivil official—Madeh—Silver-mines—Water in the pits—Proper machinery wanted—Engineers required—Kowakoli—Vines—How to preserve grapes—Sugar very dear—A farmer—The Angora famine—The late Sultan—Russian assessors—We do not wish to be tortured to change our religion—Allah is always on the side of justice—Sekili—The pace of a _Rahvan_—Marble hovels—Hospitality—Foreign settlers—A Kurdish encampment—The tax-collectors—The wealth of the Kurdish Sheiks—The Delidsche Ermak—Fording the river—A district abounding in salt—Turkoman girls—The many languages spoken in Anatolia—A lunch under difficulties. We rode across a low ridge of mountains, rocks which looked like iron ore lying about in all directions, and presently arrived at the Kizil Ermak, a broad and rapid stream which runs into the Black Sea, about fifty miles S.E. of Sinope. The distance across the river was at least one hundred yards, the left bank being very precipitous. The depth of the water, owing to the recent rains, was not less than seven feet. There is no bridge in the neighbourhood, the nearest being twenty-four miles higher up the river; I was curious to learn how we should reach the other shore. The guide soon solved the problem. Riding about half a mile along the bank, he put two fingers in his mouth and whistled. In a few minutes the sound was answered from the opposite side of the river. Six men appeared in sight. Descending the bank, they dragged a triangular-shaped barge from some rushes, and, getting into it, began to pull with all their might in our direction. The current was very swift, the starting-point was nearly half a mile beyond us; but notwithstanding this, the oarsmen overshot their mark. We had to lead our horses some little distance before we reached the boat. It was a queer sort of a craft, certainly not more than twenty-five feet long, and about sixteen in its widest part. Its sides were two feet above the water: the men could not approach the bank nearer than twenty yards. The bottom was muddy. Our horses would have to walk through the mud to the boat, and then jump over the bulwarks. There were altogether eight horses, my own four, three belonging to the post, and the animal the guide rode, a brute which kicked, and already had slightly lamed my grey. "I shall be drowned," said Osman plaintively, "I know I shall! Can my brother swim?" pointing to Radford. "What does he say, sir?" inquired my English servant. "He wants to know if you can save him if he falls into the water." "Save him? no, sir. I cannot swim a stroke. I wonder what our engineers at Aldershot would say if they had to get us over in such a craft as this? It is wuss than a pontoon!"