White listened, his head to one side.
"Haiti nigger—French patois," was his reply. "There; catch the 'mom'selle'? Haiti nigger singing."
He reached down and picked up a bolt.
"Haiti negro?" said Roger, puzzled. "How did he get in that gang?"
"Oh, they drift over once in a while." White was measuring the distance to the scow.
The bolt hummed through the air, struck the ditcher's shovels with a clang and splashed into the water.
"Missed!" growled White. "Shut up, you Sam. This ain't no voodoo outfit."
"Voodoo!" Roger laughed mirthlessly. "That would be the finishing touch."
"How come?" said White, puzzled.
"Do you happen to know Mr. Garman, White?"