Jack was back in the dark hall walking down it at a leisurely pace when he heard the very same footsteps behind him. He quickened his pace, hoping to leave behind whomever was making those eerie footsteps, but the footsteps began to fall more rapidly behind him too. Jack panicked and broke out in a run, not daring to look behind him as continued to run until it felt like his lungs had ruptured and that his burning limbs would surely set his entire body ablaze. He placed his hands on his knees and leaned forward gasping for breath, panting ceaselessly until he felt something brush against his shoulder. Jack slowly turned around and almost screamed at what he saw; a skeletal face and body covered in a black cloak and holding a hangman’s noose. As he gazed into the empty hollows where eyes should have been he knew that he was looking into the eyes of death.
Then suddenly someone screamed and Jack woke up. It took himself a few minutes to realize that it was he who was screaming and quickly shut up. It appeared that he was lucky, no one had heard him. He silently cursed himself for his cowardliness and looked out the window. Jack saw a rosy glow along the horizon and watched as the tip of the sun disappeared under the horizon and breathed sigh of relief, he was still alive. He looked at the door of the cell and saw that the Sheriff had left his dinner by the door where he could get it when he woke up. He had slept through the entire day, just as he thought he would, and it was almost time to carry out his plan.
He watched out of the window as the people of the town went about their evening business and waited quietly until every last lamp in the town was extinguished and then suddenly he sprang into action. He was not sure how long it would take to execute the first part of his plan; not even sure if he would be able to pull it off at all, but he was determined to try. He took out the spurs that he had stolen from where he had hidden them in the haystack, flinching when a fat black rat scampered over his hand. After removing the spurs he took off his flannel shirt and ripped it into thin shreds which he tied together to make a long rope. After creating the rope he tied it to the spurs that he had stolen. He then took his strange contraption and threw it across the room, aiming for the rifles on the rack directly across from him. To his surprise the spur sank into the wooden handle of a rifle. He eagerly pulled back on his makeshift rope and was disappointed to find that the spur had dislodged itself from the rifle’s
handle. He repeated this process many times over a period of a half of an hour, wrecking many of the gun’s handles before managing to get a shotgun and drag it to the bars of his cell. He picked up the gun and hid it in the pile of straw before he sat down and began to wait, trying desperately to stay awake.