The country in the neighbourhood was very highly cultivated. The farmers' granaries were full of corn. Hundreds of cows and cattle could be seen grazing along the side of the road.
We arrived at the Tchamlay Bel mountain. As we were ascending a narrow pass which overhung a steep precipice, the guide, a Zaptieh, observed that only five days previous a Turk had been killed on this very spot. It appeared that there was a band of brigands in the neighbourhood. Five of them had attacked a party of four Turkish merchants, who were returning from Sivas with, as it was believed, a considerable amount of gold on their persons. Three of the Turks ran away, leaving their companion, who showed fight, but was shot down; the brigands had taken away from him thirty-five liras, besides two horses. An hour later, when the news was brought to a village, several of the inhabitants turned out on horseback to pursue the robbers: it was too late, they had made their escape and carried off the booty.
"Do not be alarmed," said the guide as he concluded his story. "I am with you; the brigands will be afraid. Look here!" he carefully unstrapped a long, single-barrelled flint gun from his saddle-bow. The barrel was tied on to the stock by a piece of string.
"It is a wonderful gun," said the guide. "It belonged to my grandfather, I once shot a deer with it."
"Was the deer far off?" I inquired.
"Very far," was the reply. "So far," pointing to a rock about 1000 yards from us. It was clear that however well the guide might shoot with his gun, he was equally good with the long-bow. I began to be a little doubtful about the story he had just told us of the brigands.
We rested for a while at Yenihan, a large village with 200 houses; the population is composed half of Armenians and half of Turks. The Caimacan had gone to the mountains in search of some redif soldiery. He had experienced considerable difficulty in inducing these men to leave their homes, and join the army in the field.
There was nothing particular to see at Yenihan. Sivas was only nine hours distant: I determined to make a long march on the following day, and give our horses a rest in that city. The track was good. Ox-carts—the chief means of transporting baggage in this part of Anatolia—have no difficulty in travelling along the road to the Yeldez Ermak, a rapid stream which is about seventy yards wide. It is crossed by a good stone bridge on arches. The river, though fordable in the winter, would be impassable in the early spring if it were not for the bridge. It is a tributary of the Kizil Ermak, and meets that stream about twelve miles S.E. of Sivas. The district is hilly, but is highly cultivated. In about four hours we reached the Kizil Ermak, a broad, deep river. It is crossed by a stone bridge. A road on the opposite bank leads to Divriki.
We did not cross the bridge, but continued on to Sivas, which lay before us, with a background of rising slopes. A citadel, in a ruined state, frowned down upon us from the centre of the city.
Sivas, the capital of Armenia Minor, is situated at the head of the valley of the Halys of the ancients. It is the most important military position in this part of Turkey. It commands the sole route which descends with the waters upon the plateau of Asia Minor. Sivas is the key to the Peninsula on the Asiatic side; the Turks ought to fortify this place, particularly when they are threatened in Asia Minor by the Russians. Should the latter succeed in forcing the first line of defence, consisting of Kars, Ardahan, and Bayazid, and afterwards take possession of Erzeroum, there will be no other fortified town between themselves and Scutari.