across to the next branch, on which he walks along as before. He
never jumps or springs, or even appears to hurry himself, and yet
manages to get along almost as quickly as a person can run
through the forest beneath. The long and powerful arms are of the
greatest use to the animal, enabling it to climb easily up the
loftiest trees, to seize fruits and young leaves from slender
boughs which will not bear its weight, and to gather leaves and
branches with which to form its nest. I have already described
how it forms a nest when wounded, but it uses a similar one to
sleep on almost every night. This is placed low down, however, on
a small tree not more than from twenty to fifty feet from the
ground, probably because it is warmer and less exposed to wind
than higher up. Each Mias is said to make a fresh one for himself
every night; but I should think that is hardly probable, or their
remains would be much more abundant; for though I saw several
about the coal-mines, there must have been many Orangs about
every day, and in a year their deserted nests would become very
numerous. The Dyaks say that, when it is very wet, the Mias
covers himself over with leaves of pandanus, or large ferns,
which has perhaps led to the story of his making a hut in the
trees.

The Orang does not leave his bed until the sun has well risen and
has dried up the dew upon the leaves. He feeds all through the
middle of the day, but seldom returns to the same tree two days
running. They do not seem much alarmed at man, as they often
stared down upon me for several minutes, and then only moved away
slowly to an adjacent tree. After seeing one, I have often had to
go half a mile or more to fetch my gun, and in nearly every case
have found it on the same tree, or within a hundred yards, when I