think it likely,
from what I have seen of the habits of this monkey, that they defend
themselves from its attack by keeping two or three together, thus
assisting each other, and that it is only when the eagle finds one
separated from its companions that it dares to attack it.

Sometimes, but more rarely, a troop of the white-faced cebus monkey
would be fallen in with, rapidly running away, throwing themselves from
tree to tree. This monkey feeds also partly on fruit, but is incessantly
on the look-out for insects, examining the crevices in trees and
withered leaves, seizing the largest beetles and munching them up with
the greatest relish. It is also very fond of eggs and young birds, and
must play havoc among the nestlings. Probably owing to its carnivorous
habits, its flesh is not considered so good by monkey eaters as that of
the fruit-feeding spider-monkey.

It is a very intelligent and mischievous animal. I kept one for a long
time as a pet, and was much amused with its antics. At first, I had it
fastened with a light chain; but it managed to open the links and escape
several times, and then made straight for the fowls' nests, breaking
every egg it could get hold of. Generally, after being a day or two
loose, it would allow itself to be caught again. I tried tying it up
with a cord, and afterwards with a rawhide thong, but had to nail the
end, as it could loosen any knot in a few minutes. It would sometimes
entangle itself around a pole to which it was fastened, and then unwind
the coils again with the greatest discernment. Its chain allowed it to
swing down below the verandah, but it could not reach to the ground.

Sometimes, when there was a brood of young ducks about, it would hold
out a piece of bread in one hand and, when it had tempted a duckling
within reach, seize it by the other, and kill it with a bite in the
breast. There was such an uproar amongst the fowls on these occasions,
that we soon knew what was the matter, and would rush out and punish
Mickey (as we called him) with a switch; so that he was ultimately cured
of his poultry-killing propensities. One day, when whipping him, I held
up the dead duckling in front of him, and at each blow of the light
switch told him to take hold of it, and at last, much to my surprise, he
did so, taking it and holding it tremblingly in one hand.

[Illustration: A CEBUS MONKEY]

He would draw things towards him with a stick, and even use a swing for
the same purp