“We’ve been lost, and we’ve just found ourselves,” explained Jack. “We’re on our way to Camp No. 3.” “Oh, no, you’re not!” exclaimed Sam, smiling. “Why not?” Bert wanted to know. “For the simple reason that you’re on your way to Camp No. 2,” answered Sam. “You’re going the wrong way for Camp No. 3.” “Well, maybe we are twisted,” admitted Jack, “but as long as we’re headed for some camp, I don’t care what it is. “We’ve been out all night,” he added, “or at least sheltered in only an old cabin. We haven’t had anything to-day but some coffee, and we’re about done out. Isn’t this storm fierce?” “Oh, we’re used to these up here in the Adirondacks,” spoke Sam. Then the boys told how they had been out hunting and had seen the signpost that informed them it was seven miles to Ramsen. “But you went the wrong way!” exclaimed Sam, when he had heard the details. “Ramsen was in just the opposite direction.” “Then the signboard was wrong!” declared Jack. “That’s funny,” Sam spoke, musingly. “Signboards don’t change themselves that way. There’s something wrong here.” “Well, never mind that,” went on Bert. “Have you seen anything of Tom Fairfield?” “Tom Fairfield! Why, I thought he was with you!” exclaimed Sam, quickly looking around. “He was, but we separated to find the road,” explained George, “and now we can’t locate Tom.” “Well, this won’t do,” Sam spoke, and his voice was serious. “We will have to hunt for him right away. He hasn’t had anything to eat, you say?” “None of us have,” said Jack. “That’s why we were so glad to find some sort of road.” “Well, I’ve got my pung back there a piece,” said the guide. “I have some grub in it that I was taking over to your Camp No. 2. I can give you a snack from that, and then we’ll do some searching for the boy. I like Tom Fairfield!” “So do I!” exclaimed Jack, and the others nodded emphatic agreements, with a chorus of: “That’s what!” Never did food taste so good as that which Sam brought up from his pung. He explained that he had walked on ahead while his horses were eating their dinners from nose-bags. “And it’s lucky for you fellows I did,” he said, “though of course you might have stumbled on the camp yourselves. But now for a search.” And with anxious hearts the boys took it up. Where could Tom Fairfield be? That was a question each one asked himself. CHAPTER XXIII DEFIANCE Tom, a bound prisoner, watched the insolent professor who sat facing him. The latter had on his face a sneer of triumph, but mingled with it, as Tom could note, was a look that had in it not a little fear. For the desperate man had planned a desperate game, and he was not altogether sure how it would work out. Tom steeled himself to meet what was coming. He did not know what it was, but that it was something that would concern himself, vitally, he was sure. And he was better prepared to meet what was coming than he had been an hour or so previous.