He learned
shortly that Jimmy Sudds truly believed that buffaloes were to be shot
around Buffalo, New York.

John Peters, the engineer, was another character who fixed his
attention. John was almost helplessly fat and was known for this reason
as "Big John." He was a veritable whale of a man. Six feet tall,
weighing over three hundred pounds and standing these summer days in his
hot engine room, his shirt off, his suspenders down, his great welts of
fat showing through his thin cotton undershirt, he looked as though he
might be suffering, but he was not. John, as Eugene soon found out, did
not take life emotionally. He stood mostly in his engine room door when
the shade was there staring out on the glistening water of the river,
occasionally wishing that he didn't need to work but could lie and sleep
indefinitely instead.

"Wouldja think them fellers would feel purty good sittin' out there on
the poop deck of them there yachts smokin' their perfectos?" he once
asked Eugene, apropos of the magnificent private vessels that passed up
and down the river.

"I certainly would," laughed Eugene.

"Aw! Haw! That's the life fer yer uncle Dudley. I could do that there
with any of 'em. Aw! Haw!"

Eugene laughed joyously.

"Yes, that's the life," he said. "We all could stand our share."

Malachi Dempsey, the driver of the great plane, was dull, tight-mouthed,
silent, more from lack of ideas than anything else, though oyster-wise
he had learned to recede from all manner of harm by closing his shell
tightly. He knew no way to avoid earthly harm save by being
preternaturally silent, and Eugene saw this quickly. He used to stare at
him for long periods at a time, marvelling at the curiosity his attitude
presented. Eugene himself, though, was a curiosity to the others, even
more so than they to him. He did not look like a workingman and could
not be made to do so. His spirit was too high, his eye too flashing and
incisive. He smiled at himself carrying basketful after basketful of
shavings from the planing room, where it rained shavings and from which,
because of the lack of a shaving blower, they had to be removed back to
the hot engine room where Big John presided. The latter took a great
fancy to Eugene, but something after the fashion of a dog for a master.
He did not have a single idea above his engine, his garden at home, his
wife, his children and his pipe. These and sleep--lots of it--were his
joys, his recreations, the