Little Frank came from Unicoi County up in the east end of Tennessee where the Unaka Mountains seemed to drop off under the roadside into valleys that made a man think perhaps he might be happiest if he were a bird and could soar above those green woods and meadows. This was often on Little Frank’s mind, this bird business. He had always had a fanciful wish to be a bird at times for as long as he could remember. Now he was twenty six, stood five feet four,weighed a hundred and nineteen pounds, and was tow headed and had light blue eyes. He had been riding in the Chevy since soon after sun up.

  Little Frank’s sister, Lula, sat in the middle. Little Frank’s brother-in-law, William, drove the Chevy. West they went. Here was a chance for a fine vacation trip, William had said before they left home, and before they had gotten in the car William had taken Little Frank out back of the barn and given him the pistol and two boxes of new ammunition. Little Frank was a dead shot.