Tom was anything but at his ease just then, but he did not falter in his determination not to give in. He shut his teeth grimly. The door was closed and locked, and our hero was left to his not very pleasant reflections. He managed to struggle to a sitting position, and to edge over until he was leaning back against the wall. He drew his heavy mackinaw to him. It would be warm during the cold night, for that he would be kept a prisoner at least that length of time, he could not doubt. Tom’s thoughts were many and various. So this was why Skeel had followed him and his chums. This was why he had reappeared at Elmwood Hall, and had caused Whalen to ask questions about the hunting trip. So this was Skeel’s plan for enriching his purse and at the same time getting revenge. So far, fate had played into the hands of the unscrupulous man and his confederates. “But I’ll get away!” Tom told himself. He sat there in the gloomy darkness, trying to think of a plan. Meanwhile his chums, with Sam Wilson, were frantically searching for him in the storm. Sam’s idea was not to leave the neighborhood where Tom had last been seen, until they had exhausted every effort to locate their missing chum. But it was difficult to search in the storm, and the whirl of flakes made a long view impossible. Then, too, they were in a dense part of the wilderness. Sam Wilson’s farm was perhaps the largest cleared part of it, though here and there were patches where trees had been cut down. Up and down the road, and on either side of it, the search went on. Sam Wilson was a born woodsman, as well as a hunter and farmer, and he brought his efficiency to the task. “But it seems to be no go, boys,” he said, at length. “But what has become of him?” asked George with a look of worriment on his face. “That’s what we can’t say except that he’s lost,” spoke Jack. “Yes, but lost in this wilderness--in this storm,” added Bert. “It’s dangerous.” “Yes, that’s what it is, provided he is still lost,” Sam said. “Still lost! What do you mean?” asked Jack. “I mean he may have gone so far that he found his way back to one of the camps.” “Really?” hopefully cried Bert, who thought Sam might be saying that simply to cheer them up. “Why, of course it’s possible,” the caretaker went on. “He may have gone on beyond the sound of your guns. And, unexpectedly, he may have hit the trail to one of the camps. For there are trails that lead through the woods. They’re not easy to find, or follow, but Tom might have had luck.” “Then what shall we do?” asked Jack. “Go back to Camp No. 2,” answered Sam. “Tom may be there. If he isn’t, we’ll go to the others in turn. Let’s go back. We’ll drive.” So, abandoning the search for the time being, they started back for camp in the pung, drawn by the powerful horses. They were hoping against hope that Tom would be there, or that they would find him at one of the other cabins.