“Are you badly hurt?” he asked, as she stood before him, striving to keep back her tears of pain.
“Oh no, not at all badly. My foot was jammed a little. Please help me on to my horse; I’ll be all right in a minute.”
She put so good a face on her accident that he helped her into her saddle and ordered the train to move on; but Peggy perceived that the girl was suffering keenly.
“Sha’n’t we stop, Allie?” she called, a few minutes later.
“No. I’ll be all right in a few minutes.”
She rode on for nearly half an hour, bravely enduring her pain, but at last she turned to Mrs. Adams and cried out: “I can’t stand it, Peggy! My foot pains me frightfully!”
Adams again called to Ward and the procession halted, while Ward came back, all his anger gone.
“We’ll go into camp,” he said, as he examined her bruised foot. “You’re badly hurt.”
“It’s a poor place to camp, Professor,” protested Gage. “If she can go on for about fifteen minutes—”
“I’ll try,” she said; “but I can’t bear the stirrup, and my shoe is full of blood.”