"My hand will not be in condition, as you should know. True it is my left hand, but I'll not be able to bat with it, even if I could pitch."
"But you would throw the game if you could pitch?"
"No!" cried Merriwell, fiercely, letting his outraged indignation flame forth. "What do you take me for? I am no sneak and traitor, and not for ten thousand dollars—not for a hundred thousand dollars—not to save my very life would I do such a dastardly thing! You have made a mistake in your man! Take back your dirty money! I would not touch a dollar of it for the world! It would contaminate me!"
Then he flung the roll of bills straight into the face of the astonished man.
As the man stooped to pick up the money, which had fallen at his feet, Frank caught him by the collar with his well hand, yanked him up, and started him on a run for an open window.
Clinging to the money, the stranger uttered a protest at such rude treatment, but he was unable to turn about or break away, although he tried to do so.
Headlong through the window Frank pitched the fellow, giving him a powerful kick to help him along.
There was a cry of pain and rage, and the man disappeared.