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?"

"Yes, I suppose it is."

"Well...." Again Buck seemed to hesitate. The gun in his hand lowered
until the end of the barrel rested on the table. "Look," he said
slowly, "maybe you can tell me how in hell...."

When he didn't go on, the professor said, "Yes?"

"Nothing."

"You were going to say--?"

Buck looked at him, his bulging eyes narrowed, the gunman's smirk on
his lips again. "Are you telling me what's true and what ain't," he
said softly, "with my gun on you?"

"Does the gun change anything?"

Buck tapped the heavy barrel on the table. "I say it changes a hell of
a lot of things." _Tap_ went the barrel. "You wanta argue?"

"Not with the gun," the professor said calmly. "It always wins. I'll
talk with you, however, if you'll talk with your mouth instead of with
the gun."

* * * * *

By this time I was filled with admiration for the professor's guts,
and fear that he'd get a bullet in them ... I was all set to duck, in
case Buck should lose his temper and start throwing lead.

But suddenly Buck's gun was back in his holster. I saw the professor
blink again in astonishment.

"You know," Buck said, grinning loosely, "you got a lotta nerve,
professor. Maybe you _can_ tell me what I wanta know."

He didn't look at the little man while he talked--he was glancing
around, being "wary" again. And grinning that grin at the same time.
You could see he was off-balance--he was acting like everything was
going on just like he wanted it; but actually the professor had beaten
him again, words against the gun, eyes against eyes.

The professor's dark eyes were level on Buck's right now. "What is it
you want to know?"

"This--" Buck said, and his gun was in his hand again, and it was the
first time when he did it that his face stayed sober and kind of
stupid-looking, his normal expression, instead of getting wild and
dangerous. "How--do you know how do I do it?"

"Well," the professor said, "suppose you give me your answer first, if
you have