By this time the young girl was on her feet, looking questioningly at the girls who had stepped up closely.
“Are you hurt, Dal?” Leslie inquired.
“Not to amount to anything,—a few scratches.”
“And a bump or two,” added the new acquaintance.
“I caught you sideways,” said Dalton, “and only eased your fall. Are you sure that you are whole?”
“Oh, yes. I’m not feeling so good, but neither are you. My name is Peggy Ives.”
“Mine is Dalton Secrest and this is my sister Leslie.”
Leslie, rather ashamed of having asked after her brother’s safety first, held out her hand to Peggy and asked if she could not help get out some of the prickles. Sarita was introduced while they drew out of the bushes and crossed the trail to the edge of the cliff, where there were rocks to make seats for them.
Peggy limped a little and Leslie put an arm around her, finding Peggy a slim little thing, glad of someone to lean upon. Dalton still stood by the blackberry bushes, getting rid of briars, and wiping off the result of some scratches, with a handkerchief which he had found in his bathrobe pocket.
“What became of my horse?” Peggy asked. “Did either of you see it?”