During his visit at Ostrownoje, Matiuschkin had a favorable opportunity of becoming acquainted with the sports of the Tchuktchi, the chieftain, Makomol, having set out prizes for a race. These consisted of a valuable silver fox, a first-rate beaver skin, and two fine walrus-teeth. Nothing can be more admirable than the fleetness of the reindeer or the dexterity of their drivers; and the agility displayed in the foot-race by the Tchuktchi, running at full speed, in their heavy winter dresses, over a distance of fifteen versts, gives a high idea of their muscular powers. After the races, the spectators are treated to a grand choregraphic display. The Arctic bayaderes, muffled from head to foot in their stiff skin garments, form a narrow circle, slowly moving their feet backward and forward, and fiercely gesticulating with their hands, whilst their faces are distorted into a thousand horrible grimaces. The singing that accompanies the ballet has no doubt its charm for native ears, but to strangers it seems no better than a kind of grunt. The representation is closed by three first-rate _artistes_ executing a particularly favorite dance. The faces of their countrymen express the same intense admiration with which a European dilettante follows the graceful pirouettes of a Taglioni, while the Russian guests see only three greasy monsters alternately rushing towards each other and starting back, until at length they stop from sheer exhaustion. As a token of their satisfaction, the Russians regale the fair performers with a cup of brandy and a roll of tobacco, and both parties take leave of each other with mutual protestations of satisfaction and friendship. Though most of the Reindeer or nomadic Tchuktchi have been baptized, yet Wrangell supposes the ceremony to have been a mere financial speculation on their part, and is convinced that the power of the Shamans is still as great as ever. An epidemic had carried off a great number of persons, and also whole herds of reindeer. In vain the Shamans had recourse to their usual conjurations, the plague continued. They consulted together, and directed that one of their most respected chiefs, named Kotschen, must be sacrificed, to appease the irritated spirits. Kotschen was willing to submit to the sentence, but none could be found to execute it, until his own son, prevailed on by his father’s exhortations, and terrified by his threatened curse, plunged a knife into his heart, and gave his body to the Shamans.