In the evening come the singing contests—quite one of the most important features of the annual festival. Ethnologists generally are agreed that the Eskimo excel in poetry and music. Improvisation with them is a recognised art. Every man is something of a composer, and is called upon whenever festivities are in progress to contribute a number of his own to the improvised concert. The form of these songs is quite strict, and the melodies, even to unaccustomed European ears, may be reduced to accepted notation. Travellers who have but a superficial acquaintance with the arctic folk, distinguish little in the extempore contests of the Kagge or of the Sedna ceremony but sheer barbaric cacophony—yowlings, yells, and monotonous and seemingly endless repetition. But there are some to whom Gregorian chant itself conveys but little more! These Eskimo songs deal with any and every subject which may occur to the singer, those of a satirical or personal or topical character proving the most popular. The contests give rise to untold amusement and delight. Nothing is more appreciated in the whole round of the programme. As a rule, the competitors are only men. The “ptarmigans” (i.e., those born at the end of winter or beginning of spring) challenge the “ducks” (or those born in the summer). Each side extols its own prowess in hunting, its natal advantages, etc., etc., to the detriment of the other. All sorts of ridicule is poured upon the opposite party, causing the wildest merriment among the auditors, who shriek with laughter at each successful or witty sally, clap their hands, and vociferate over the comedian who wins the contest. The Eskimo have a very lively sense of fun, and appreciate each home thrust and happy skit every bit as keenly as a Cockney music-hall audience. The Kagge, or singing house, of the summer deer-hunt is, like that of the Sedna ceremony, a big round house, similarly tenanted by the people in circles around the walls. The summer Kagge is built of sod and stones. The women wear skin gloves—the backs black and the palms white—and take their station behind everybody else, with the children. The men come next, and the Angakooeet, as judges, sit in the front circle. The centre of the house is left vacant for the performers. The first part of the entertainment consists of songs describing the exploits of the dead and gone heroes and hunters of the tribe, each song having a refrain which is taken up by the women, who sway their bodies from side to side as they sing, so raising and lowering their arms as to show first a circle of waving white and then a circle of waving black hands. Many of these songs are old-established favourites, extemporised at first by some individual as his own contribution to some occasion, which “caught on” and became part of the tribe’s collective musical tradition.