Buster the Big Brown Bear

by George Ethelbert Walsh

Before Buster knew what was coming, he was slapped over the head with a stout stick. It stunned him for a moment, and he lay very quiet. But when he got back his senses, he showed his teeth again and sprang for the man.

This time he was knocked over and kicked about the room until he ached in every bone. His two captors came for him with short, stout sticks, which they used freely. Again and again Buster sprang at them, and tried to bite them, but each time he was knocked down.

You see, Buster was only a cub, and he was no match for two full grown men, but he had the spirit of his wild ancestors in him, and he fought until he was hardly able to stand up. Then he dropped down sullen and resentful, beaten into silence, but with his spirit still flaming with anger.

From that day began a new life for Buster. He was no longer treated kindly and coaxed to do tricks. Every time he failed to do what his captors demanded of him he was kicked and cuffed about, and when he obeyed them he was not rewarded by any sugar or honey.

Indeed, he never tasted either of these sweet things. What he had to eat were scraps of bread or meat which the men threw to him after they had eaten all they wanted. Instead of having the freedom of a cabin, he was kept chained up in a small, dark hut.

And what a hut it was! It was dirty and smelly, with scarcely any sun or daylight in it. At night time the men lighted a dirty old lamp or a smelly candle which spluttered and dripped without giving much light. His bed was the bare, hard floor, with nothing for a covering except a few whisps of straw.

Buster rebelled at all this treatment. He couldn’t get used to it. The men never spoke a kind word to him, nor ever patted him on the back in a friendly way. They whipped him for the slightest thing, and made him so afraid of them that finally he ran whenever one of them approached.

But even this wasn’t the worst of his captivity. In a short time his captors began to teach him to dance and do tricks, but not in the gentle way his former friends did. They put a muzzle on his nose so he could not bite any one, and tied a chain to his neck. Then with a long pole, one end of which was sharpened, they prodded him into dancing. If he didn’t dance fast enough to suit them they jabbed him with the sharp pole, and sometimes when he was so tired he could hardly stand they made him stand on his head and turn a somersault.

As a reward for all this Buster was given a few dry crusts of bread and a drink of water, but never any honey or sugar. At night time, sore and tired, he would curl up in the corner of his room, and think of the past. With tears in his eyes, he thought of his happy home in the cave, of his mother who was so kind to him, of Loup the Lynx, and of the two men who had saved him from the river, and fed him with rich milk and sugar and honey.

Oh, how he wished he was back with them or at home in the cave with his mother! But wishing wouldn’t help him, and after a while he began planning a way to escape. He decided to be good, and obey his cruel masters, but the first chance he had he would run away from them.