"Well, I'll be damned." Buck looked at him a little more carefully. "A perfessor, huh? Of what?"
"Of psychology, sir."
"What's that?"
"It's the study of man's behavior—of the reasons why we act as we do."
Buck laughed again, and it was more of a snarl. "Well, perfessor, you just stick around here then, and I'll show you some real reasons for people acting as they do! From now on, I'm the big reason in this town ... they'll jump when I yell frog, or else!"
His hand was flat on the table in front of him—and suddenly his Peacemaker was in it, pointing at the professor's fourth vest button. "See what I mean huh?"
The little man blinked. "Indeed I do," he said, and stared at the gun as if hypnotized. Funny, though—he still didn't seem scared—just a lot interested.
Sitting there and just listening, I thought about something else funny—how they were both just about of a size, Buck and the professor, and so strong in different ways: with the professor, you felt he was strong inside—a man who knew a lot, about things and about himself—while with Buck it was all on the outside, on the surface: he was just a milksop kid with a deadly sting.
Buck was still looking at the professor, as carefully as he had before. He seemed to hesitate for a second, his mouth twisting. Then he said, "You're an eddicated man, ain't you? I mean, you studied a lot. Ain't that right?"