AN ANTHROPOID. 
22 
chops it into lengths, or slashes the thick rind from a green 
cocoanut, and then chips a small hole in the shell that you 
may quaff the refreshing beverage with which it is filled. 
When at rest the koita hangs from a curious contrivance 
attached to the Koonbee' s waistband behind, in which posi- 
tion the broad, keen blade hangs over and partly curves 
round his undefended sitting parts, and it has always been 
a mystery to me how it is prevented from taking “sec- 
tions ” at every step. But it is rarely at rest. Whenever 
a thornbush, or tangled creeper, or errant branch of a tree, 
obstructs his course, his weapon flashes out and the 
Koonbee walks on, leaving a broad path behind him flanked 
with vegetable ruin. How often has he pioneered me 
through what, without his koita, would have been an 
impenetrable thicket. It is a fine sight, but after all it is 
only like watching a tiger devouring his allowance of flesh 
behind his bars at the Zoo. 
Could you watch the Koonbee as he wanders alone 
through his native wilds, it would be like following the 
same savage beast when it leaves its lair and goes forth 
in search of its prey. In mere wantonness you would see 
him lop the branch of a fair tree and leave it to wither 
across the path, or with a single slash kill the young 
