FONDNESS FOR WATER—FISHING-STATIONS. 233 
In the Wintiin, five is literally ‘‘one-half hand” or ‘‘one side hand” 
(shi, from sem), that is, one hand, for by the simple word sem the Indian 
means both hands. In the Patwin, five is “one hand”. The Wintiin, 
nine is ‘one side and four”; ten is ‘none lacking”. In the Nummok 
dialect nine is ‘fone lacking”, that is one finger minus. 
In the matter of dress a fashionable young woman sometimes makes 
for herself a very pretty habit, which consists simply of a broad girdle of 
deer-skin, the lower edge ‘slit into long fringe with a polished pine-nut on 
the end of each strand, while the upper border and other portions are 
studded with brilliant bits of shell. An old Wintiin wife occasionally 
appears in the light and airy costume of a grass rope wound once or twice 
around. ‘The squaws all tattoo three narrow lines, one falling from each 
corner of the mouth, and one between. 
They are as remarkable as all Californians for their fondness for being 
in, and their daily lavatory use of, cold water. They are almost amphibi- 
ous, or were before they were pestered with clothing. Merely to get a 
drink they would wade in and dip or toss the water up with their hands. 
They would dive many feet for clams, remain down twice as long as an 
American could, and rise to the surface with one or more in each hand and 
one in the mouth. Though I have never given special attention to the 
singular shell-mounds which occur in this State, I have often thought they 
might have been originated by an ancient race of divers like these Wintiin. 
T am not aware that the latter accumulate the shells in mounds, but they 
are seen scattered in small piles about their riparian camps. In ancient 
times, two rival rancherias might have striven to collect each the larger 
heap of shells, as to-day two hunting or fishing parties will carry their 
friendly contention to the verge of fool-hardiness to secure the greater 
amount of game or fish. 
For a fishing-station the Wintiin ties together two stout poles in a 
cross, plants it in deep water, then lays a log out to it from the shore. 
Standing here, silent and motionless as a statue, with spear poised in the 
air, he sometimes looks down upon so great a multitude of black-backed 
salmon slowly warping to and fro in the gentle current, that he could 
scarcely thrust his spear down without transfixing one or more. At times, 
