“‘Don’t let that bother you,’ says Brother Tiger, says he. ‘I’m a pretty good wrestler myself, and I don’t mind trying my hand with you after I’ve tasted your honey-in-the-comb.’
“But Brother Bear hemmed and hawed, and acted so that Brother Tiger thought he was either afraid to wrestle or mighty stingy with his honey-in-the-comb. He thought so, and he said so, and this put Brother Bear on his mettle. So he says, says he:—
“‘Well, Brother Tiger, come and get a piece of my honey-in-the-comb. I’m more than glad to give it to you, and sorry, too, because, as sure as you eat it, you’ll be put under a spell, and you’ll be obliged to wrestle with me seven long years or give me all your belongings.’
“Brother Tiger grinned from ear to ear. Says he, ‘If I don’t have to wrestle before I get the honey-in-the-comb, it will be all right. Just let me get my fill of that, and I’ll wrestle with you seven times seven years. I’ll promise to make you tired of wrestling.’
“‘So be it,’ says Brother Bear. ‘Come and get the honey-in-the-comb, and take all you want, for I won’t need any after I’ve wrestled with you a time or two,’ says he.
“Brother Tiger went up and tasted the honey-in-the-comb, and it was so good that he smacked his lips and asked for more. Brother Bear gave him some. After both had eat as much as they wanted, Brother Tiger took a notion to go home, but something held him back. The spell was working. But finally he pulled himself together, and said he believed he’d go home and see his old woman.
“But Brother Bear chuckled to himself. Says he, ‘Now that you’ve gobbled up my honey-in-the-comb, you don’t want to wrestle. You can’t help yourself. When I say wrestle, you’ll have to wrestle. You can go home now, but to-morrow, bright and early, I’ll knock at your door, and you’ll have to come out and wrestle.’
“Says Brother Tiger, says he, ‘I’ll be more than glad to accommodate you. Just knock at the door any hour after daybreak, and you’ll find me on hand.’
“Says Brother Bear, ‘I’ll do so, I’ll do so. Just remember your spoken word, Brother Tiger!’
“Brother Tiger started home, but before he had gone very far he began to feel mighty queer. He had a buzzing noise in his head and a creepy, crawly feeling on his hide. He began to get scared. Once he thought the honey had poisoned him, but he wasn’t sick. He never felt better in his life. He wanted to jump and run, and I believe the tale does say that he capered around a time or two. But every time he’d start home he’d have that buzzing sound in his head and that creepy, crawly feeling in his hide.