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Hat Gang. There was two captains running the Red Hat Gang then, the Latiolais brothers. First day they tole Junior they knowed they couldn't whup him, but by God they was gonna kill him.
    "See, there was several tings special about the Red Hat Gang. Everybody wore black-and-white stripes and straw hats that was painted red. But didn't nobody walk. From cain't-see to cain't-see, it was double-time, hit-it-and-git-it, roll, nigger, roll.
    "The Latiolais brothers was both drunkards. One of them might drink corn liquor under a tree and take a nap, then wake up and point his finger at a man and say, "Take off, boy." The next ting you'd hear was that shotgun popping.
    "If a man fell out under the sun, he'd get put on an anthill. If a man was dogging it on the wheelbarrow, the captain would say, "I need me a big wet rock." There was a mess of rocks piled up down in the shallows, see. A convict would have to find a big one, a twenty-five pounder maybe, wet it down, and run it back up the slope to the captain befo' it was dry. Course, the faster the convict run, the quicker the rock got dried.
    "So one day the captain tole Junior he was dogging it and he better get his ass down on the river and bring the captain the biggest wet rock he could find. Now, them rocks was a good half mile away and the captain knowed Junior was gonna be one wore-out nigger by the end of the day.
    "Except Junior toted the rock on up the slope, then when the captain wasn't looking, he ducked behind some gum trees and pissed all over it. Then he holds up the rock to the captain and says, "This wet enough for you, boss?"
    "The captain touches the rock and looks at his hand and smells it. He cain't believe what Junior just done. Everybody on the Red Hat Gang started laughing. They was trying to hide it, looking at the ground and each other, but they just couldn't hold it inside. It was so funny they thought for a minute even the captain would laugh. They was sure wrong about that."
    "What happened?" I asked.
    Hogman wore a strap undershirt that hung like rags on his body. His eyes took on a melancholy cast.
    "The captain took Junior to the sweatbox on Camp A. It was an iron box no bigger than a coffin, standing straight up on a concrete pad. They kept that boy in there seven days, in the middle of summer, no way to go to the bat' room except a bucket between his legs," he said.
    "What became of Junior?" I asked.
    "Don't know. He was in and out of "Gola a couple of times. Maybe they buried him in the levee. I reckon there's hundreds in that levee. I don't study on it no mo'," he said.
    His eyes seemed to focus on nothing, his forehead glistening in the firelight.
    Early the next morning I picked up my mail in my pigeon hole at the department and sorted through it at my desk. In it was an invitation, written in a beautiful hand on silver-embossed stationery.
    Dear Dave,
    Can you come to Fox Run Saturday afternoon? It's lawn tennis and drinks and probably a few self-satisfied people talking about their money. In fact, it's probably going to be a drag. But that's life on the bayou, right? Merchie and I do want to see you. Call me. Please. It's been a long time.
    Until then, Theodosha
    A long time since what? I thought.
    But I knew the answer, and the memory was one I tried to push out of my mind. I dropped the invitation into a drawer and glanced out the window at a car with two men in it, pulling to the curb in front of the courthouse. The driver wore a black suit and a Roman collar. His passenger twisted his head about, his face bloodless, like someone on his way to the scaffold.
    Two minutes later the pair of them were at my door.
    "Phil came to the church and made his reconciliation," Father Jimmie said, closing the door behind him. "If you don't mind, he'd like to talk over some things with you. Maybe in private."
    Gunner Ardoin, whom Father Jimmie referred to as Phil, looked at me briefly, then out the window at a trusty mowing the grass.
    "You want to tell me