The master smiled. “I think I do, Ordway. But I don’t see how you expect to get back unless you ask.”
“Hanrihan told me he would try to—to arrange it.”
“But Tom Hanrihan hasn’t anything to do with the second team, I’m afraid, Ordway.”
“I fancy not, sir. I thought perhaps I’d speak to Mr. Bonner.”
“Mr. Bonner has no more to do with it than Hanrihan. See Mr. Crowley. He will hear what you have to say. You know him, I suppose.”
Hugh shook his head. “No, sir, I don’t.”
“Well, wait until he comes off and we’ll speak to him. He’s coming now, I think. We’ll take the bull by the horns.” Mr. Smiley chuckled, and Hugh had to smile, too, for the simile was unflatteringly apt. Mr. Crowley did remind one remarkably of a bull! “‘Audentes fortuna iuvat,’ Ordway, if you haven’t forgotten your Latin.”
Hugh followed the master to where the second team coach was approaching the bench in company with Ben Myatt. Hugh lagged a little, for, while it might be true that fortune favored the brave, it was equally true that Mr. Crowley didn’t know him from Adam and might think him decidedly fresh. There was a word or two of greeting between the men, during which Myatt slipped away, and then Mr. Smiley turned to Hugh.
“This is Ordway, Mr. Crowley. He’s looking for a job and thinks you may have an opening for a bright young man.”