1875.] J. Butler — Bough Notes on the Angami Ndgds. 317 



pelled to abandon home and retire into voluntary banishment to some neigh- 

 bouring village for the space of three years. 



They have a singularly expressive manner of emphasising messages. 

 For instance, I remember a challenge being conveyed by means of a piece 

 of charred wood, a chilli, and a bullet, tied together. This declaration of 

 war was handed on from village to village until it reached the village for 

 which it was intended, where it was no sooner read, than it was at once 

 despatched to me by a special messenger, who in turn brought with him a 

 spear, a cloth, a fowl, and some eggs, the latter articles signifying their 

 subordination and friendship to me at whose hands they now begged for 

 protection. It is perhaps scarcely necessary for me to explain that 

 the piece of burnt wood signified the nature of the punishment threatened 

 (?'. e. the village consigned to flames), the bullet descriptive of the kind of 

 weapon with which the foe was coming armed, and the chilli the smarting, 

 stinging, and generally painful nature of the punishment about to be 

 inflicted. And only the other day a piece of wood, with a twisted bark 

 collar at one end and a rope at the other, used for tying up dogs with on 

 the line of march, was brought in to me with another prayer for protection. 

 The explanation in this case is of course obvious, namely, that a dog's 

 treatment was in store for the unfortunate recipients of this truculent 

 message. Two sticks cross-wise, or a fresh cut bough, or a handful of 

 grass across a path, declares it to be closed. But of such signs and emblems 

 the number is legion, and I therefore need only remark that it is curious to 

 observe how the " green bough" is here, too, as almost every where, an 

 emblem of peace. 



The Angamis invariably build their villages on the very summits of 

 high tabular hills, or saddle-back spurs, running off from the main ranges, 

 and owing to the almost constant state of war existing, most of them are 

 very strongly fortified. Stiff stockades, deep ditches bristling with panjies, 

 and massive stone walls, often loop-holed for musketry, are their usual 

 defences. In war-time, the hill sides and approaches are escarped and 

 thickly studded over with panjies. These panjies, I may here explain, are 

 sharp-pointed bamboo skewers or stakes, varying from six inches to three and 

 four feet in length, some of them as thin as a pencil, others as thick round as 

 a good-sized cane, and although very insignificant things to look at, they 

 give a nasty and most painful wound, often causing complete lameness in 

 a few hours. Deep pit-falls and small holes covered over with a light 

 layer of earth and leaves, concealing the panjies within, are also skilfully 

 placed along the paths by which an enemy is expected to approach, and 

 a tumble into one of the former is not a thing to be despised, as I have had 

 good reason to know. The approaches to the villages are often up through 

 tortuous, narrow, covered ways, or lanes, with high banks on either side, 



