Thus it happened that he was given little time for thought and little in which to see his friends, all of whom were eager to be in his company.
Had he known that the oilskin envelope in his possession contained nothing but blank paper it is not probable he could have spoken as brilliantly as he did.
When the speaking was over it was generally conceded that the handsome medal must go to Merriwell.
The faculty adjourned to the Treasury building, and there Frank was awarded the splendid prize. Each member of the faculty shook his hand in turn and spoke some word of praise to him. They looked on him lovingly, for they knew that he had done more to raise the standard of college life than any other student in the country.
Frank was on his way to his room when he almost collided with Roland Packard.
Packard had been drinking heavily, and he stopped, his lip curling in a scornful sneer.
“You think you’re it, Merriwell,” he said, in a tone of great contempt; “but, if you only knew it, you are the biggest fool alive.”
Frank had no desire to exchange words with the fellow.
“You’re drunk, Packard,” he said quietly.
“You’re a liar, Merriwell!” snarled Packard, who seemed not to have a single remnant of reason left.