The first board was half-rotted and fell apart in his hands. Light streamed in as it came away from the frame. Then he shifted his attention to the second one - the board in the middle. If he could get this one off, he could easily climb out.

But this board wouldn't be so easy. It was like the old door of the barn, dried out and as tough as steel.

Gripping the board with both hands, he began pulling. The nails squealed in protest and the board started to move. Only a little bit further, grunted Johnson. The thought of throttling the old man excited him. Just a bit further....another half inch. He could almost feel his fingers closing around the old man's scrawny neck...the eyes bulging...the tongue sticking out. Another half inch...!

Then it stopped. Desperately, Johnson yanked at the board, but it was no use. It would not yield.

I need more leverage, he said to himself. Balancing on one foot, he braced his other against the window frame and started p............