But what about _Uncle Sam_?
He turned off the searchlight and still _Uncle Sam_ was clearly visible now, standing, waiting.

He could count the spokes in the wheels.
The spokes in the wheels--_the spokes_.

With a sudden inspiration born of despair, Tom looked at that low, shingled roof.

He could see it fairly well now.

The gray dawn had almost caught up with him.
And meanwhile the minutes passed! In a frantic burst of energy he took a running jump, caught the edge of the roof and swung himself upon it.