"Oh! I'm not afraid of being left in the lurch there," asserted Roger, stoutly. "I can see plenty of signs of dead wood around here. A fierce storm must have swept across this section many years ago, that leveled plenty of big trees, which are now rotting on the ground. Grubs like to hide in that sort of decayed stuff. Look for me by the time it gets dusk." "Keep your gun near you, and it would be better not to stray too far away from the camp," warned cautious Dick, speaking on general principles. "You don't believe there's any danger lurking near by, do you?" asked Roger, though failing to show much concern, for his nature was daring and fearless. "Nothing more than we always count on," the other told him. "But white men who are in a strange country must always figure on finding an enemy hiding back of some tree or rock, so keep your eyes about you, Roger. If I should hear your gun sound, or catch a hullo, depend on me to come in a hurry." Roger only laughed, for he did not believe any peril could lurk so close to the camp. Still, accustomed to being on his guard, he made it a point to see that the powder was in the pan as he tucked his gun under his arm and strode forth. He found to his relief that there were plenty of old stumps and rotting logs close to where the fires had been started, so that he need not go any great distance away in order to begin his search. His hatchet was soon brought into play, as he smashed some of the likely looking remnants of once proud forest monarchs. It required little muscular effort, scattering the soft punk-like wood, and, hardly had the boy obtained a fair start, than with a satisfied little cry he reached down and seized an enormous white grub whose home in the heart of the decayed stump he had broken open. Just as Roger had anticipated, a rich harvest awaited him. Sometimes he came upon half a dozen prizes in one stump, and it was not long before he knew that, before the darkness became too dense for him to see how to work, he would have secured all the bait they could possibly use on the following morning. At any rate, they would always have their hatchets with them, and, should their supply run low, there would be plenty of other opportunities to replenish their store. So it was that he returned to camp much sooner than Dick in his most sanguine moments had imagined possible. There was hardly any need to ask Roger how his quest had turned out, for the broad smile on his tanned face told the story. "A noble lot of fish lure," assented Dick, when he had examined the contents of the small box into which Roger had also cast a handful of powdered dead wood, in which his prisoners could conceal themselves. "I must say you struck it rich this time."