"No, you don't, Clip," said Chub. "We're going to have a feast here, and you're invited. Besides, I've got something to say to you. In the eyes of the McReady outfit, and of old Perk, the ex-heathen, you stand as high as Bunker Hill monument. Now, listen. I threw that rock down by the canal, and I threw it at Perry——"
"I know," answered Clip. "Got it out of Drake."
"Are we pards? If I've ever said anything you don't like, I ask your pardon. How's that? Shucks! I'm so plumb happy this afternoon I want to be at peace with all creation. Shake!"
Chub extended his hand, and Clipperton, with a slow, quiet smile rarely seen on his face, caught the same heartily.
"I've been foolish," said Clip, shaking hands all around. "It takes experience to show us some things. I've had a heap of experience since last night. But I don't want to butt in. It's your supper-party——"
"Get away if you can!" snorted Chub, "I——"
The sounder in the corner began to click. Chub broke off abruptly and leaped for the machine.
"Dry up, all of you!" he cried. "Delray's telling me something."
"He must have fixed the machine, then," said Matt. "It went wrong a little just after we had got through with it at the Bluebell."
"She's all right now, anyway. Listen to this: Delray wants to know if Matt got here in time for the race. Watch me knock the tar out of the ether in sending him the news!"