Buck had never seen an Indian-not a real one in any case. He'd seen people with Indian blood in them, but never a real live Indian who lived with his tribe. He knew about the Indian burial ground that lied some 25 miles outside of his Arizona hometown. He'd even gone close to them with some friends on a camping trip. Every time he went near, though, a shiver would make its way up his spine. The particular tribe that had made its home in that area was particularly vicious and had a reputation for being ruthless in combat, often raping the male captives of war to break their spirit and show the superiority of the conquering tribe. He had learned in his Arizona history class that it had taken the white settlers an extremely long time and many bloody battles to subdue the tribe. Now, all that was left of the once mighty Indian nation was their burial ground and some scribbling on a cave wall-or so he had heard.

"How'd you like the movie, Buck?" asked Tom, wrapping an arm around Buck's shoulders. This jarred Buck back from his mental wanderings.

"Oh, uh. It was ok. I think Angelina Jolie makes a wonderful Lara Croft." Small talk was all Buck could manage as they made their way away from the cinema. Buck had always been the strong, silent type-very strong indeed. At 6' even and 230 lbs, Buck was usually avoided by the thin and slight framed guys he met at the local gay bar. They were only interested in the smooth model types anyway. Buck was anything but that. With broad shoulders that could support a house, a full beard and short-cropped hair, and a chest of muscle and hair, this muscle bear usually inspired fear rather than lust in the typical crowd at the club. The guys there rarely made the effort to talk to him, which suited him just fine. As far as he was concerned, he had yet to see someone in the club that flipped his switch either. Buck had always hoped that another bear would make his way to the bar and save him from the endless torture of side glances and hushed whispers that all seemed to be directed to him.

"Well, whaddya say we head back to your place and I can raid your tomb." Tom was certainly straightforward. Aside from the fact that he had known Tom for only a few hours, there was also the matter of Tom's slight build that made Buck hold back. Tom had been one of the club's only residents that night and the only one to talk to him. It had taken Buck by surprise when Tom approached him and confessed that he found Buck's size irresistible and wanted to dominate him. Without warning, Tom had snaked his hand into Buck's flannel shirt and rubbed his hand through the fur covering Buck's tight abs. This made Buck tense up and stammer out a reply about something as nonsensical as the weather. Tom's forwardness and aggressiveness put Buck on the defensive, who was used to the little attention that was paid to him coming from other small guys looking for a massive top. In truth, Buck was much more of a soft and cuddly bottom, wanting a real man to take control of him in the bed as well as in life. Despite Tom's enthusiasm, Buck couldn't see himself submitting to someone like Tom. Thankful for the conversation, however, Buck had agreed to take in a movie with Tom. He wasn't counting on Tom's persistence.

"Tom, you're a great guy and all�"Buck started.

Disappointment colored Tom's features. "Save it, big guy. If you don't want a real man to fuck, then you're just wasting my time." Top started to walk away.

"Tom, wait. Please" Buck hadn't wanted to hurt the smaller man.

"What?" Tom's short reply came in contrast to his normally talkative nature.

"It's not you. It's just that I�uhh. I'm just," Stammering once again set in and Buck found himself at a loss for words.

"You're not ready, Buck. Here." Tom fished a card out of his pocket and thrust it toward the embarrassed Buck. "Give me a call someday when you're for a real man rather than the Ladies at the club." That last little stab really hurt Buck, and he filled with sorrow as he watched the only man to pay him any sort of attention walk away into the night.

Buck didn't know how long he stood there, holding Tom's card, but as the October night air got colder, he realized he must look a fool to the cars that were passing by.

"Back to the routine," Buck sighed to himself as he pocketed the card and began walking back to his apartment. Buck's home was the loft of a barn that he had spent the last year making livable. Transformed from the dirty, ramshackle animal house the barn had been, Buck had worked hard to clean the place up, slap a fresh coat of paint on it, and weather seal it. The plumbing and electrical work had taken the longest, but in the end, had made the place livable. The downstairs was finished with a stained concrete floor and painted walls. This was where Buck put the living room and kitchen areas. Up on the loft level, Buck had built a bed and a small gym to house his weight bench and bike. The walls were replaced with floor to ceiling windows that Buck loved to open on the hot summer nights. The whole place made him feel closer to the outdoors, and he's actually had offers on the place. Metropolitan Home had done a story on the conversion too. Refusing to sell, Buck had made a contracting business for himself. People hired him to build them similar dwellings. The work was hard and kept him in great physical shape.

Buck tried to take his mind off of Tom as he made his way home. He thought about the movie he had just watched. He thought of how exciting it would be to find treasure in old tombs. That's what made him think of the Indian burial ground in the canyon outside of town. He imagined himself walking through caves, coming upon an ancient gold statue of an Indian totem. Doing something like that would certainly be more exciting than talking to himself in the bar waiting for his dream man that looked as if he would never come. Remembering that he had nothing scheduled for tomorrow, Buck decided that he would check out the ruins for himself tomorrow. It would be Tuesday and most people would be at work, so the chance of encountering anyone else there would be slim to none.

Arriving at home, buck decided he wanted to start out early in the morning. He took the opportunity to pack some things into his Jeep. A backpack, a pick, a couple of canteens, a knife, some rope, and his 22 rifle were among the provisions he packed. Finally, he collapsed into bed, his head filled with thoughts of the wonders he might discover there. As he lay in bed, feeling the breeze blow across him, he unconsciously ran his hand down his belly and let it rest on his large bull balls. He had gotten an erection from the excitement of picturing himself as a tomb raider. His 7 and a half inch cock was pointing straight at the ceiling and he was suddenly regretful that he didn't take the opportunity to relieve the stirring in his loins when Tom had offered. Slowly, he drifted into dream filled sleep as the hard work from the long day took its toll on him.

Buck awoke in the hour before dawn. He needed no alarm clock, letting nature take on that role. After relieving himself and wolfing down a hearty breakfast, Tom jumped into his Jeep and left town, stopping only to fill the tank. As he exited the store, he saw that the sun was going to be merciless that day. He stripped off his flannel and wife beater, leaving only his cut off shorts and constructions boots. He really loved the way the wind played his chest hair as he drove out of town with the top down. Within an hour, Buck was out of his Jeep and walking down a trail that led into the canyon of the Indian burial ground. At the base of the canyon, the trail opened upon both sides to a width of about 20 feet. The walls of the canyon rose up on either side of him like titans standing guard of the treasure Bucked hoped to encounter.

Buck started down the trail and by noon, he has explored 4 caves, turning up only a broken shard of pottery. Happy to have just gotten out of town that day, Buck wasn't discouraged. He had still to make it to the burial ground that was just over the next ridge. Who knew what wonders lied buried there beneath the sand. Finishing off his first canteen of water, Buck looked down at this sweat slick, muscled frame. This was what he was built to do, he thought. Sweat had plastered his brown fur to his tanned body and he could see the ridges of his abs underneath it. He wondered to himself why the other guys at the bar wouldn't want him. It wasn't like he was fat. They were very specific about what they wanted, and that didn't include bears, beards or unshaven bodies. "Their loss," he thought as he got up and made for the next ridge. As he reached the top, he gazed down into one of the most beautiful places he'd seen. A small stream flowed up from a spring that ran under one of the canyon walls. Trees grew to either side of the bank. In the center of those woods was a clearing that was roughly 100 feet wide in diameter. That, Buck thought, must be the burial ground.

As he reached the stream, Buck thought he'd take a few minutes to cool off in it. He kicked of his boots and dropped his cut offs before plunging headlong onto the stream. Suddenly, something on the bottom caught the light and flashed in his eyes. Holding his breath, he dove down and managed to clear the dirt away, revealing a small shiny object. Buck grabbed it and brought his head to the surface. Water sprayed in every direction as he shook his head. Buck took a second to stead himself and looked at the prize in his hand. It was a small golden replica of a totem pole. After a second, Buck realized it was the same one he imagined the day before. At the top of the totem stood an eagle with outstretched wings. The eyes of the eagle were tiny green stones.

"Oh, my God!" exclaimed Buck. "This must be priceless!" The excitement was hard to contain. He hadn't really expected to find anything on this trip, and already he'd come across something more valuable than anything he'd ever seen. The beauty of the Indian totem was remarkable.

"Click�" The sound brought Buck back to his senses and he realized he wasn't alone. He turned toward the back and was greeted by a rifle barrel pointed at his chest. On the other end of the rifle was something almost more shocking than the rifle itself. An Indian, complete with loincloth, moccasins and headdress stood on the bank pointing what buck now recognized as his own rifle at him. Remembering that he had left the rifle in the Jeep, Buck concluded that this Indian must have taken his rifle and followed him into the canyon.

The Indian looked like a chief, judging by his headdress. His age also supported this hypothesis. He looked to be somewhere between 50 and 60. His body was hairless, and fatless, showing tightly corded muscles despite his small frame. The chief stood about 5'9" and weighed maybe 175 or 180. His skin was sin parched and his face had the look of a man who could take a scalp without thinking a thing about it. Realizing that he was totally vulnerable, Buck raised his hands and stood up out of the waist deep water. The chief motioned with the gun that he wanted Buck out and on the

bank. "Hey, I don't mean anyone any trouble." Buck said. From the look on the chief's face, however, Buck concluded that the Indian didn't speak a word of English. Buck held the totem out to the chief who looked at it wordlessly. Seeing that the Indian wasn't going to take the totem, Buck let it drop onto his cutoffs that still lay on the bank. The Indian slowly circled around back of Buck who stood unmoving. Suddenly, Buck was aware of his own nudity. This semi hard dick waved up and down with each breath and he was embarrassed that the chief had seen him hard.

Once behind Buck, the chief took a leather thong from the inside of his moccasin and brought Bucks arms down behind his back, binding his hands tightly behind him. Buck was starting to get worried now ad the chief made his way back toward his front. The feeling of being restrained excited Buck, despite his fear and the semi hardness in his cock turned into rock hardness, his manhood sticking straight out in front of him. Buck's face flushed and he feared the chief would shoot him for being a fag. To his surprise, the front flap of the old Indian was being pushed out by his own, much smaller hardon.

Puzzled, Buck didn't have time to ponder this new development as his balls were grasped roughly and his nuts jerked to the bottom of his sack. Gasping quickly, Buck gave a yell of pain as jolts of it made their way up into the pit of his stomach. The chief's face remained motionless as he repeated the jerk witch would have brought Buck to his knees if the chief hadn't been holding his balls in place. Buck could do nothing as his balls were bound by a similar leather thong as the one now holding his wrists. Taking the long end of the thong, the chief shouldered the rifle and used his leash to lead his captive to a cave by the mouth of the stream. The pain in his balls was almost too much for Buck as he struggled to keep up with the Indian who now had control of his manhood.

Inside the shallow cave, buck saw a skeleton propped up against the wall. Two wooden arrows hanging between its ribs left no doubt as to the cause of death. The clothing that hung in tatters to the skeleton's frame was certainly not if Indian origin. There was a rough weather worn book clasped in the body hand of the skeleton too. Buck assumed it must have been the remains of another of the chief's captives. Suddenly, the excitement in his loins cooled as he realized he might never make it out of the canyon alive. I knife was drawn across the thong holding Bucks arms and the leather came away releasing his hands. Before Buck could turn around, however, the cold of the rifle barrel was felt against his lower spine.

The chief nudged his captive forward toward the skeleton. Buck's mind raced for a plan as he stumbled forward. Turning, he saw that the chief had lowered the rifle. Maybe he wasn't going to die after all. Buck reached down and attempted to untie the thong that still encircled his balls. KA POW! The shot jolted every nerve in Buck's body. Realizing he wasn't shot, he looked up to see the chief holding the smoking rifle. The stern look on his face told Buck that the chief did not want him untying the leather around his balls. Slowly, Buck let his hands fall to his sides. With one hand, the chief pointed to the book in the skeleton's hands. Slowly, VERY slowly, buck knelt and took the book. Opening its cover, he saw that it was written in English. The date at the beginning was 1837. None of the other pages were marked with dates. Curious about the end of the skeleton, Buck turned the pages until he got to the end. The last entry there told of a skirmish between the settlers and the Indian tribe that inhabited the area. After a long and bloody fight, the Indians were defeated and their population slaughtered. All but the chief of the tribe were killed, the chief being forced to watch. When the last of his people had perished, the chief wailed in sorrow to the gods. He asked that he be killed too, but the settlers thought it a worse punishment if he lived with his shame. In his grief and with a voice filled with hatred, the once proud Indian chief vowed vengeance upon any white man to step foot into his territory. The last words of the journal told of a duel fought between the writer and the old Indian chief. The man had come seeking Indian treasure and when the Indian chief caught him, he demanded that the white man face him in a duel to the death. The man refused and tried to run when two arrows from the chief's bow struck him. As the man was bleeding out, he crawled into this cave and made his last entry, incase anyone should find his journal.

Buck closed the journal and looked at the Indian facing him. "This must be a descendant of the old chief." Thought buck. Then the chief pointed out of the cave and toward the burial ground. Buck then realized that he was being challenged to a death duel. The overwhelming fear at his predicament faded ad buck realized he had a chance at life--A very good one by his estimate. Buck had been a wrestling champ in high school. His success was attributed to his massive strength and size. Guy's his size had challenged him and failed. Surely this much smaller and older chief would be no problem. Buck nodded his ascent and led the way out to the battleground. By now, the son was at it's hottest and heat waves rose from the sand and cracked dirt that made up the ground of the burial area. In the center, Buck noticed a leather bag with beads covering it. The chief walked toward the bag and opened it. Removing its contents, he threw a pair of moccasins and a rabbit skin at Buck. Puzzled, Buck realized that the rabbit skin was actually a loincloth.

"Ceremonial battle gear?" Buck questioned. Again, no response came from the Indian. Buck sat down on the ground and put the moccasins on. Lacing them up the side, he was amazed to see how well they fit him. Once done, Buck stood and started to remove the thong around his balls. His sweat was already soaked it and the leather was beginning to expand painfully into his balls. As Buck reached for it, another shot rang out from the rifle. This time, the shell kicked up dirt as it impacted a few inches away from Buck's left foot.

"How am I supposed to fight with this on?!" Yelled Buck. Again, there was no response from the old chief, only silence as he waited for Buck to don the rabbit skin loincloth. Hands shaking, Buck tied the loincloth in pace around his waist. Its single flap left his muscled but exposed. Under the flap, the tail of the thong painfully restraining Buck's balls blew in the hot breeze.

Both warriors faced each other on the battlefield. The old chief tossed the riffle behind him and produced a single stone knife from the cord of his loincloth. This he threw and stuck into the ground in the center of the clearing. Next, he removed the elaborate headdress. Unarmed, both men circled each other cautiously. The old chief's steps were as light as a cat while bucks steps were solid and grounded. When they were sure they were ready, both men rushed each other and locked up. Buck could feel the strength of the older man, and he pushed back with equal force. Shifting his weight, Buck caught the chief in a side headlock. The old Indian pulled himself close into Buck's side as Buck cranked on the pressure. No sound escaped the chief as he endured the punishment from the stronger man.

Twisting oddly, the older man shot his inside elbow into Buck's ribs. It hurt a bit, but not nearly enough to make buck lessen up the pressure. Buck knew that in this position, the older man couldn't get enough strength behind an elbow to make him release the headlock. Switching tactics, the old veteran tried to reach up to Buck's face and claw his way out. Buck's size prevented it as he turned his head away. Buck then bent at the waist and slowly came back up, increasing the pressure on the old man's head, this time getting a grunt out of him. As Buck considered his next move, the chief raised his foot and stomped it straight down, his heel impacting with Buck's instep. Sharp pain shot up Buck's leg as he released the headlock and hobbled away. Wasting no time, the old chief kicked out at the back of the knee of Buck's other leg, sending him to his knees with a wail of frustration.

The old chief took the opportunity to slap on a sleeper hold from the rear. Buck was no beginner, though and grabbed the man's arm and leaned forward, throwing the old chief over his shoulder to land on this back in the dirt. With cat like agility, the old man was up and facing Buck who was also up and moving backward, favoring his left leg and battered instep. Warily, the two circled each other again. This time when they locked up, Buck drove a big knee into the older man's gut, knocking the wind out of him. Next, a clubbing forearm brought the chief down. As the chief was shaking the cobwebs out of his head, Buck pulled him into a standing front face lock. Buck applied pressure by pulling up, hoping to make the old man pass out. Undaunted, the chief fired fist after fist into Buck's hairy abs. Impervious to the assault, Buck inhaled and lifted up and back, raising the chief off his feet. The next thing Buck knew was that his world was alive with pain surging up throughout his entire body. The chief managed to get hold of the long end of the leather thong around Buck's manhood and while Buck strained to pull the old man up, the chief strained to pull Buck's balls off. The tug of war didn't last very long as the pain from the front face lock was no match for the agony Buck was experiencing at the hands of the chief. Buck dropped the man and his hands shot down to his tortured sac. Gasping for breath, the chief relished the shrieks of pain coming from his adversary. The chief maintained the tension on Buck's nuts and added a sharp kick to them to further incapacitate the bear. Buck choked on a scream, coughed and vomited from the pain in his nuts. He'd taken a shot or two there before, but never like this. To add to it, it had been over two weeks since he'd gotten himself off and his full nuts were swelling quickly.

As Buck coughed and moaned, holding his battered orbs, the chief locked an arm over Buck's neck and twisted him into a neck breaker, which gave him a satisfying pop from Buck's neck. Dazed and in pain, Buck rolled around on his back. The chief raised a foot and thrust it down toward Buck's head. Buck barely managed to catch the foot, paying the price of additional pain in his nads from the straining of his abdominal muscles. Thinking quickly, buck twisted the chief's ankle and threw him off. Buck was quick to sit up, but was met with a kick to the back from the chief. This did little more than insult the young man as Buck made it to his feet and turned to face the Indian. The smirk on the Indian's face showed what he thought of the big bear. The young man's opinion of the ruthless chief wasn't very high either.

Buck eyed the knife a few yards away and feigned a lunge toward it. The chief moved to prevent him from getting it and Buck landed a haymaker punch to the jaw of the older man, sending him back the way he'd come. Without looking to what became of his opponent, Buck dove for the knife. When he turned, he saw the chief nursing his bloody lip. When the chief saw what buck had in his hand, he made a dash for the rifle. Buck's size proved to be his worst element then as he chased lamely after the chief who move much more quickly than he. The chief reached the gun a second before the bear came flying through the air at him. The two collided with a collective "oof!" the force of which sent them both tumbling out of the clearing and back to the bank of the stream.

The chief came to rest flat on his back while a very angry bear landed atop him. Buck dropped the knife and grabbed the riffle that was between them. A power struggle ensued between the two as Buck tried to choke the chief with the barrel of the rifle. The chief, both hands on the riffle as well fought Buck from his back. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as neither side could get ahead in the struggle. Buck was astounded by the older man's strength. Judging from the size of the man, Buck should have already crushed his windpipe with the rifle. Despite Buck's superior power and youth, the old man was holding him at bay. Both men eyed the stone knife lying close by. This time, it was the chief that feigned a move for it. As Buck let up on the rifle to prevent the chief from getting the knife, the chief took the opening and shoved the butt of the rifle upward where it impacted with Buck's nose, offering a wet crunch. Tears blurred Buck's vision as he reached for his broken nose. Free at last from the struggle, the chief bucked his hips and threw Buck over him and into the cold water of the stream. Forgoing both weapons, the chief followed his prey into the water. Buck surfaced behind the chief and took control once again with a full nelson. The chief responded quickly with a heel to Buck's shin. Buck decided to try to end the fight and fell backward into the water, scissoring the waist of the chief. Both men sank to the bottom. Buck's massive legs squeezed the air from the chief's lungs while his full nelson applied pressure to his victim's neck. Buck had gotten a full breath of air before taking them both down. It was only a matter of time before the chief breathed in the water and drowned. Despite his predicament, the Chief made no move to struggle against the bear. When Buck's air supply ran out, he released the old man and surfaced.

Coughing and sputtering, Buck breathed heavily and shook the water out of his eyes. When his vision cleared, he looked down for the body of the chief. To his great surprise, he wasn't there. Buck started to turn when the strap around his balls was pulled taught from behind. Buck yelled and reached to cup his balls when he was struck in the kidney by a powerful punch from the chief. Unable to turn around, Buck could only scream and clutch his package as blow after blow took their toll on his back and kidneys. Turning his head slightly, Buck saw that the chief now had the knife raised and prepared to plunge into his back. Instinct took over as Buck drew his leg forward and thrust a kick backward into the chief's chest. Knife and Indian went soaring backward, but unfortunately for Buck, the line to his balls was still intact. Pain like he had never felt before racked Buck's already hurting body as the thong snapped taught. First his left ball, followed by this right squeezed through the tight loop that held them, and the thong came away. Buck screamed himself hoarse as he fell forward, his hands cupping his balls, which by now were much larger than they needed to be. The pain didn't fade and Buck waded through water and torment to get to shore. Looking down, he saw that both his nuts were intact, but severely bruised. He also saw that due to the release of his balls from their torturous restraint, he had shot a load of semen onto the back of the rabbit skin loincloth.

Buck turned in time to see the chief making his way toward shore. He no longer had the strength or ability to fight back as the chief approached. Seeing this, the chief threw the big bear to the ground. Exhausted, the chief followed Buck down and applied a half nelson to Buck's left arm and a hammerlock to this right. Unable to resist, a weak and fatigued bear could do nothing as the chief cranked on the pressure. Sliding to Buck's left side, the old Indian began to land solid knee shots to Buck's ribs. Buck groaned and tried to use his legs to pull away, but he was locked tight by the strong arms and mighty grip of the old chief. After the seventh or eighth knee rammed into his side, Buck felt and the chief heard the crack of Buck's ribs. Every breath not pained Buck ad he pleaded for the barrage to end.

The chief rallied his strength at the begging of his enemy and pulled Buck up by his hair. Unable to resist, Buck slumped over the chief's shoulder as he was lifted into a fireman's carry. The trip back to the shore was torture with each pounding step of the chief sending jolts of pain through Buck's broken ribs. Finally, Buck was dumped like a rag doll onto the shore. The Young bear writhed in pain as he was rolled over onto his belly and his hands were stretched above his head, further intensifying the pain in his side. Using the thong that had been securing his loincloth, the chief quickly bound Buck's hands and stretched them above his head, tying them off to a stump. Next, he removed Buck's loincloth and retied it around his mouth as a gag. Finally, the chief settled in behind the battered and broken bear and with one hand stroked the bear's dick while kneading and milking his balls with the other. Buck's screams, muffled by the rabbit skin gag, were lost on the chief as he intensified his efforts to milk this bear. When at last, Buck could no longer stand the combination of pleasure and pain, he shot another load into the hand of the chief.

Giving his captive no time to rest, the Indian smeared the semen in his hand into the crack of the bear and slid in his own rock hard dick. Buck arched his back and threw his head up, letting out a howl of pain as the old chief ploughed his tight ass. The Indian was bigger than the bear knew and his asshole felt like it was being torn open. Suddenly, the thrusts of the old chief slowed and he whispered soothing words to the young bear. Using his hands to massage the bruised areas of the bears back where the muscle had knotted tightly, the old man calmed his buck and soon the bear relaxed as the chief's pumping continued at a steady pace.

Buck was barely conscious. He had always wanted to be the bottom, but not like this. He had no control over the situation and was being used for the old chief's pleasure, but despite the rough beating he had taken at the hands of this old Indian, the man was being rather gentle with him now. His emotions in turmoil, Buck broke down and sobbed through the gag into the sand of the shore. Soon, the chief arched his back and thrust once or twice more, then slumped onto the back of the young bear.

Slowly, after some time, the chief raised himself off his prisoner and sat beside him. Buck looked up at him with pleading eyes. The eyes of the chief were impassive. The old Indian began to run his hand through Buck's hair; not in the loving way that he had massaged his back, but in the rough way of the enemy he had battled. Then the chief stood and made his way to the water.

"Jesus, no!" thought Buck. "He's looking for the knife." Buck knew then what his enemy had planned to do. He meant to take the scalp of his vanquished foe. Despite the pain that wracked his body, the young bear fought the bonds that held him. The old Indian had taken his pride and his dignity. Something in Buck fought to save his life.

As Buck's struggles grew, the chief realized that his captive meant to fight for his life. No matter, though. He had beaten the young white man badly enough that it would little to subdue him again. Just then he felt the stone knife at his feet in the stream. He dove to get it as Buck gained his feet and began biting at the leather around his wrist. Time would decide it now as these two men struggled to be the first to succeed. The thong bolding Buck's wrist to the log finally broke as the chief's head broke the surface of the water. Both men paused and eyed each other. Then they sprang into action. Buck made his way for the rifle lying on the shore while the chief ran for the water's edge. Buck dove for the rifle and pain wracked his side ad he landed. Quickly he rolled over and brought up the rifle. The chief was there with his knife raised. Buck squeezed the trigger and the shot rang out.

The chief's eyes clouded over and he took a faltering step back before collapsing to the ground. Blood was flowing from the exit wound in his back. Quickly, Buck got to his feet and hobbled to his boots and cutoffs that were still lying on the shore. Bending to grab them, something shiny caught his eye. It was the golden Indian totem with the emerald-eyed eagle. Quickly, Buck glanced back over his shoulder to where the chief lay-or was supposed to be�

There was nothing. No dead Indian chief, no blood, no knife. Buck froze in his tracks and brought the rifle up. He looked over to the stump and saw that the leather thong was nowhere to be seen. Looking down, he saw his feet. Hairy toes wiggled in the sand of the shore where moccasins were supposed to be covering them. He was aware of being stripped of his loincloth, but the moccasins were tied snuggly in place and now they were gone as though they were never there to begin with. Had he dreamed it all? The pain with each breath told him no as did the dried blood in his nose and the huge bruise on his left instep.

Bewildered, the young bear pulled his cut off shorts on and slipped his feet into his construction boots. Looking down, he maintained his grip on the golden totem whose very presence seemed to verify his ordeal. Numbly, he staggered off back out of the canyon toward his Jeep-the wind singing through the canyon as he made his way out.

It was late evening by the time he had made his way back to his apartment in the barn. He knew he would have to go to the hospital to have his ribs checked, but couldn't take the drive there and the explanations tonight. He staggered into the shower and turned the water on hot. After scouring himself in the hot water, he emerged looking like a hairy lobster. Weakly he made his way to his bed and collapsed onto it. He still couldn't believe what he'd seen and felt. Had the Indian been a ghost? He picked up the golden totem, which still hadn't disappeared. He hadn't expected it too. Looking into the eyes of the eagle, he saw the same gaze that the Indian chief have fixed him with. He had faced the curse of the old Indian chief. He had faced it and lived. This totem was his proof-all the proof he needed. Then a thought came to him as he looked into the emerald eyes of the eagle. "That which does not kill you, makes you stronger." That had certainly been the case with the old chief. Living through his ordeal had given him immortality. Buck wondered if the spirit of the old chief would come looking for the totem. "No," he thought to himself. "This is my reward just as my scalp would have been his." There lying on his back, Buck was suddenly filled with respect for the old Indian chief that had almost taken his life.

Reaching back behind his head to put the totem on the headboard, Buck felt something on the surface of the wood. It was the card that Tom had given him the night before. Thinking about his experience, he realized that a smaller man could be the top. Buck rather liked the idea of having a smaller man in control of him. Certainly, Tom would be gentler than the old Indian chief who had beaten him nearly to death.

Buck took the phone off the nightstand and dialed the number. A voice answered on the other end. "Tom? This is Buck. I'm sorry about the other night. You were right. I wasn't ready�. Are you busy right now? No? Good. Tom, I've had a lot of things happed to me in the last 24 hours. I'm ready now�"

The End

I certainly hope you enjoy this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please feel free to e-mail any comments to me at:[email protected]