"Who's been with you ?" said he.
"There've been Tom and I;--and Calder Jones was there for a while.
I think he killed himself somewhere.

And there was Pollock, and your friend Grindley, and a chap whose name I don't know who dropped out of heaven about half-way in the run; and there was another man whose back I saw just now; there he is,--by heavens, it's Vavasor! I didn't know he was here." They hung about the Claydon covers for ten minutes, and then their fox went off again,--their fox or another, as to which there was a great discussion afterwards; but he who would have suggested the idea of a new fox to Sir William would have been a bold man.

A fox, however, went off, turning still to the left from Claydon's towards Roebury.

Those ten minutes had brought up some fifty men; but it did not bring up Calder Jones nor Tufto Pearlings, nor some half-dozen others who had already come to serious misfortune; but Grindley was there, very triumphant in his own success, and already talking of Jones's sovereign.

And Pollock was there also, thankful for the ten minutes' law, and trusting that wind might be given to his horse to finish the run triumphantly.
But the pace on leaving Claydon's was better than ever.