46. So Mastamho counted for them again: "Hatesa, hakiva, hakoma, tšimkapa, θapara, tinye, sekive, kum, ayave, apare.[65] Now I have counted ten. Perhaps you will like that." Again they did not speak a word.
[65] This third try at a count interchanges the consonants of the stressed syllable in the normal Mohave words.
47. Final count taught.—Then he said: "Well, I will make it four times: I will count once more; that will be all. Then I will teach you other things: for you do not yet know east and west and north and south: I will teach you that. Now I will count. Seto, havika, hamoka, tšimpapa, θarapa, sinta, vika, muka, paye, arrapa. Do you like that? Can you say that?" Then they all said it after him. They could count and liked it; they knew how to do it and clapped their hands and laughed.
48. Fingers made on hand.—Now their hands were not yet as now: their fingers were still together. Then Mastamho tore them apart and made five fingers. "I want you to call this one isalye tšikaveta.[66] Call this one isalye itma-kanamk.[67] I want you to call this one isalye kuva'enye; this one isalye tokuv'aunye; and this one isalye kuvapare.[68] Now I have made your hands for you, too."
[66] The thumb.
[67] The index. Kanamk is "point."
[68] Middle, fourth, and little fingers, of course.
49. First direction names taught.—He said again: "Now we are here in this house: all will know and hear it. Now when I mean here," and he pointed his hand to the north, "all say: 'Amai-hayame.'" But they did not do so: they kept their hands against their bodies; they wanted another name; they did not like that word. Then he said: "And there is Amai-hakyeme; all say that!" And he pointed south. But again all sat still: they did not want to call it that. He said again: "Well, there is another: there is the way the night goes.[69] I do not know where its end is, but when we follow the darkness that is called Amai-hayime." He said that, but none of the Mohave said a word: they sat with their hands against the body. Then Mastamho said once more: "You see the dark coming. I do not know where it comes from: I did not make it. But where darkness comes from, I call that Amai-hayike." Again they sat still and did not point.[70]
[69] The Mohave, like the far-away Yurok, constantly speak of night coming from the east and traveling west.
[70] The plan underlying the twisting of the terms of direction is less clear than for the other series of words. See discussion at end.