So they file off, one by one, from the point of landing, and make their way to the uplands and the appointed general meeting place of all the tribes engaged upon the annual hunt. Thither many such parties converge: the people from Fox Channel, the tribe from the neighbourhood of Kikkuktâkjuak, or Big Island, the Saddlebacks, the Noovingmeoot from Frobisher Bay, and as many more from north, south, east and west. They time themselves all to arrive as punctually as possible. The spot is a high plateau among the hills, at the head of the inlet described above. When at last all the tribes have assembled, the elders hold a general meeting and decide upon the direction and the details of the prospective hunt. As soon as this important business is settled the people give themselves up en masse to a few days’ holiday-making. It is the height of arctic summer; food abounds; and friends meet each other once again after a year of separation. The people are care-free and happy. No danger threatens from any direction. So that Eskimo good spirits attain their highest pitch, and for a short time the people abandon themselves to their every hospitable and sociable instinct, to their love of jollity and fun, to sports all day, to singing, entertainments, feasting and story-telling of an evening and well into the night. The sports are inter-tribal. There are running and wrestling matches, too, races and competitions of all sorts. The youth are keenly aware of being watched by the bright, sloe-eyed, laughing girls, and of being criticised or applauded by the elders. As true a sporting spirit of emulation, good temper and fair play obtains in this far-away arctic festival as on the famous “playing fields of Eton,” and as many a romance comes of it as well. For this is an immensely important social and fashionable function among these primitive folk, and men and maidens meet and strike many a match of their own. There are contests with the bow and arrow. Poles are fixed in the ground with skins suspended from them to represent deer and seals. The vital spot, of course, is the Eskimo idea of the bull’s eye. The spear-throwing competition calls for a high degree of skill. From the top of a fixed, inclined pole, a line is carried to the earth, having an ivory ring tied in it half way down. This ring is carefully concealed by fringes of hide, and the spear throwers, stationed at a recognised distance away, have to cast their weapons deftly through it. The attempt demands the greatest accuracy of vision and training of the hand. The contests are very keen, and great éclat awaits those who distinguish themselves. Their names become household words round the igloo lamps all during the succeeding winter, much as those of crack footballers become familiar to the sporting manhood of this country.