The orang-utan is found only in Borneo and Sumatra, but is more abundant in the former island. It is most numerous in the Sarawak Territory. This animal occupies the fourth highest place in the animal kingdom—first, man; second, gorilla; third, chimpanzee; and fourth, orang-utan. This name signifies “Jungle-man,” and is derived from two Malay words, “orang,” man, and “utan,” jungle. The latter word is usually corrupted into “otang” or “outang.” The animal itself is rare and difficult to find. In August, 1878, I went on a hunting expedition for orangs to the Sadong River, at the mouth of which I settled and commenced prospecting. One day two men arrived from the headwaters of the Simujan River. They said they had seen two _mias_ (orangs), and suggested that I should go up to their village for a week or so. This I did, and was very successful, taking thirty-one orangs during my first month. In my visit of three months I secured forty-three orangs. Of these twenty-seven fell to my rifle, the remainder being shot for me by natives. Our plan of hunting was to paddle leisurely up and down the streams in a Malay sampan, or dug-out canoe, and watch the tree-tops on both sides as far back as we could see. I was armed with a Maynard rifle and field glass, while three stout Malays or Dyaks furnished the motive power at the paddles. Once in sight of an orang it was a comparatively easy matter to send a ball into its breast. On one occasion, while paddling up the Simujan River on a bright forenoon in September, the Malay suddenly exclaimed “Mias! Mias! Tuan!” The other paddlers backed water at once, but we saw nothing until the boat had been backed several yards. Then we espied simply the knee of a large orang which was lying asleep on a branch about twenty feet above the water, and twenty yards from us. Its body was completely hidden by the foliage, so I stood up in the boat and fired at its leg to arouse it. It started up instantly, growling hoarsely with pain and rage, and started to swing away with a reach that was surprising in its length. Fortunately, the water was deep; there were no screw-pines to hinder our progress, and in a moment our sampan was directly under the old fellow, who then climbed high into the tree-top to escape us. It was a huge old mias chappin, the species with the expanded cheeks, long-haired, big and burly. It growled savagely at us, and one of my Malays kept saying, “Chappin! Mias Chappin! Fire, sir, fire! That’s Mias Chappin. Big—big.” My companions were all intensely excited, but I knew the old fellow was ours, and waited for a good shot. In a moment the opportunity came, and I fired twice in quick succession at the orang’s breast. It stopped suddenly, hung for a moment by its hands, then its hold gave way, and it came plunging downward, snapped off a large dead limb on the way, and fell broadside into the water, with a tremendous splash which sent the spray flying all over us. As we seized the arms and pulled