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Show page 125 been bending over in the fourth attempt when he saw Storey's rabbit gun and snatched for i t . After the struggle for the gun, after it roared, Forrest had run around the corner of Roy Boling's house, s t i l l holding the jug in one hand. He d i d n ' t quite make i t to Roy's front porch, just gave out as he rounded the corner, just slid down t i r e d and weary and dead, with a bullet in his heart. Storey had followed him, s t i l l holding the rabbit gun. F o r r e s t ' s jug was on the ground beside him, unbroken, his hand close to i t . Seemed he'd taken care in his last moment to set the jug doxai easy. Then the croxvd had poured from the house, Anne Sharpe in front holding a lantern. She sax^z Forrest lying there and Storey standing over him clutching the rabbit gun and looking down at him. Bars of a c e l l window are not the real barriers to freedom in our county j a i l . I t ' s possible someday that bars won't be used anymore to hold anyone less than the meanest, and that the small space of a c e l l to walk in will be called cruelty of a sorts in i t s e l f . A man feels public sentiment building against him in such a place, feels he's half convicted before t r i a l . These conditions did not bother Storey too much. He preferred them to facing Anne Sharpe. I t ' s peculiar what a man will remember. He remembered Anne Sharpe, same as he always had his three years of hiding in the East Texas o i l f i e l d s . He remembered Anne coming out of Boling's house, standing there |