“By the right of--might!” was the answer. “I’ve got you here, and here I’m going to keep you until your father pays me a ransom of ten thousand dollars. That will square accounts a little, and make up for some of the things you did to me. It’s you against ten thousand dollars, and I guess your father would rather pay up than see you suffer. Now I’ll get down to business,” and he drew up a chair and sat down in front of Tom. CHAPTER XXII AN ANXIOUS SEARCH George Abbot had the luck of finding the road for which he and his chums had all vainly sought so long in the storm. It will be remembered that the four boys had started in different directions, corresponding to the different points of the compass, to search for a route, either back to the hut where they had spent the night, or to one of the three camps. And it was George who found the road. True he did not know which road it was at the time, but when he had stumbled on through the drifting snow, fighting his way against the storm for some time, he fairly tumbled down a little embankment, rolling over and over. “Well, what’s this?” George asked himself, rather dazed, as he rose to his feet. He had his answer in a moment. “It’s a road--I hope it’s _the_ road,” he went on, as he saw that the little declivity down which he had fallen was where the road had been cut through a hill, leaving a slope on either side of the highway. “I must signal to the others at once,” George decided. His gun had slipped from his grasp when he fell, but he now picked up the weapon, and fired two shots in quick succession. It was the signal agreed upon. The wind was blowing hard, and George was not sure that the sound of the shots would carry to his chums. He did not know just how far they were from him. So, after waiting a bit, he strolled down the snow-covered road a bit, and fired again. He repeated this three times, at intervals, before he heard an answering shot. Then he raised his voice in a yell, and soon was relieved to be joined by Jack. “What is it?” Jack asked. “The road--I’ve found it,” George answered. “Where’s Bert--and Tom?” “Haven’t seen either of them.” “Well, they’re probably looking yet. We’ll fire some more shots and bring ’em up.” George and Jack fired at intervals, the signal each time being two rapid shots, but it was some time before they had an answer. It finally came in the shape of another shot, followed quickly by a shout. “It’s Bert,” said George. “Sounded more like Tom,” was his chum’s guess. While they waited, they exchanged experiences. Jack told of vainly floundering about in the drifts, while George had better news to impart. “I fairly stumbled on the road,” he said. “Any way at all, as long as you found it,” said Jack. “Here comes someone now.” It proved to be Bert, who staggered up through the storm, himself almost a living snowball. “Found anything?” he gasped, for he was quite “winded.” “The road,” answered George. “Where’s Tom?” asked Jack.