Packard gasped with astonishment and admiration, for the stranger was magnificently developed, and his muscles were those of the perfect athlete. His legs were lithe, yet powerful and muscular; his waist was strong and slender; his chest was full and deep; his shoulders were broad and handsome; his arms—ah, what arms they were! They might have belonged to Samson! And his neck was the neck of the fully developed athlete.
But above this superbly handsome body rose that horribly scarred face. Packard shuddered when he looked at it.
“Do I strip all right?” asked the stranger quietly.
“By Jupiter! you are a physical marvel!” cried the bewildered medical student. “Apollo could not have had a more perfect figure!”
Was it a smile of satisfaction that contorted the scarred face of Hawkins?
“The beauty of my body is all I possess,” he said bitterly. “My face frightens people. Sometimes, in my own room, I put a mask over my face, tear off my clothes, and stand before a long mirror to admire my muscular body. Then I try to fancy myself with a face suited to this body—such a face as I must have had but for that fire. Oh, it is terrible to know that I must always wear this disfigured face! I have no real friends! I have but one ambition in life.”
“And that is——”
“To defeat and conquer Frank Merriwell! I shall do it, too!”
CHAPTER XXIV.
PACKARD IS SATISFIED.
Having made this statement, the young athlete of the scarred face turned to his clothing, as if he would dress.