“With that Brother Bear hugged Brother Tiger pretty tight, whirled around with him a time or two, fell on him, and then cuffed him, first on one ear and then on the other. It was all done so quick that Brother Tiger didn’t have time to say don’t. He got up and felt of his ribs to see if they were still whole, and then he rubbed the side of his head where Brother Bear had cuffed him. It had already begun to swell. His breeches were badly ripped, and he was sore all over.
HE RUBBED THE SIDE OF HIS HEAD
“Says he, ‘And so this is what you call wrestling—this is what I was itching for, is it?’
“‘Oh, no!’ says Brother Bear. ‘It wouldn’t do to call that wrestling. That was only playing. I was just showing you the first few capers: you can’t wrestle until you learn how. I’ll drop by your house to-morrow morning, bright and early, and give you another whirl.’
“Brother Tiger looked mighty solemn, but he didn’t say anything. He ambled off home as well as he could in his condition, and got his old woman to mend his breeches. She wanted to know who he had been fighting with, but he told her he had just been playing with Brother Bear. She laughed, and said that when he had played that way a few more times there wouldn’t be enough of him left, neither breeches, body, nor bones, to sew up in a bag.
“Well, the next morning, bright and early, Brother Bear rapped at Brother Tiger’s door, and told him to come out and take some exercise before breakfast. Brother Tiger didn’t like this invitation at all. He said he wanted to sleep a little longer; but Brother Bear sent in word that the night was made for sleeping, while the day was made for work and play. Now, it so happened that the honey which Brother Tiger had ate had put a spell on him, and when Brother Bear asked him out to wrestle he had to come. He pulled on his clothes with no good heart, for he was still very sore, and came limping out, trying to put a good face on the affair. Brother Bear laughed, and told Brother Tiger howdy, but Brother Tiger didn’t make much of a reply.
“So Brother Bear says, says he, ‘I hope you are not begrudging your bargain, Brother Tiger, but you made it yourself, and at no invitation of mine. I had the seven pieces of honey-in-the-comb, and you had the bad taste in the mouth. I told you how it would be, but you would have the honey, and now you’ll have to stand to your bargain: you can’t help yourself now. I told you the plain truth about it, but you wouldn’t believe it. You’ll find out the truth before you get the taste of that honey out of your mouth.’
“Then they made a few passes at each other; but Brother Bear finally grabbed Brother Tiger around his striped waist, squeezed the breath out of him, dashed him on the ground, cuffed his ears, and then stood there on his hind legs, waiting to see what Brother Tiger was going to do. But Brother Tiger didn’t want any more wrestling for that day. He went into the house and washed his face and hands, and sat down and licked his bruises the best he could.
“But the next morning he had to come out and wrestle again, and this happened until he was so weak he could hardly walk. His hide was split, his ears were swollen, and every stripe on his long body was crossed by a scar. Wrestling was fine fun for Brother Bear, who was used to it, but it was no fun for Brother Tiger, who didn’t know how. Every time he wrestled he got new bruises, and his head swelled until he could hardly get in the door of his house without backing his ears.