"Jest one more," piped Welcome, "an' keep on yer feet. I'm givin' ye ole Lucretia Borgia, who's more dangerous than what she looks—I mean, looks more dangerous than what she is. Lucretia Borgia, notches an' all, pards!"
A roar of laughter greeted this toast.
"Now, it's my turn," said Clip. "Take this one from me. I give you Matt King. A firm friend and a generous foe. Mile-a-minute Matt, King of the Motor Boys! Motor Matt, the best ever!"
Bedlam was at once let loose, and Welcome Perkins made a noise like a menagerie at feeding-time. Matt, raising his hand, kept his friends on their feet.
"I want to give you just one more, pards," said he, "and what Clip said about a 'generous foe' reminds me of the duty. I give you O'Day, Dace Perry, Ratty Spangler and Tubbits Drake. What's the use of holding any sort of a grouch at this joyous time? If they can't be friends of ours, let's treat them honestly as foes. Will you take them?"
A scowl had leaped to Clipperton's face. The toast was intended for him, for his was a nature that rarely forgave an injury. Perry had gained his enmity and Matt was seeking to bridge the gulf to the extent of keeping Clip from taking the offensive and doing something he might be sorry for.
"They say that Perry lost a pile of money backing O'Day," said Chub, breaking an embarrassing silence, "and that he's head over heels in debt to Hawley. This has been a rough day for Perry."
"He brought it on himself," growled Clipperton. "He made a fool out of me. I owe him something. Man to man I want to pay the debt."
"Will you drink the toast, Clip?" asked Matt, fixing his eyes on the shining orbs of the quarter-blood.
"I—I wish I was more like you, King," faltered Clip.