This is Animal Farm by George Orwell.
Chapter 4.
By the late summer the news of what had happened
on Animal Farm had spread across half the
county.
Every day Snowball and Napoleon sent out flights
of pigeons whose instructions were to mingle
with the animals on neighbouring farms, tell
them the story of the Rebellion, and teach
them the tune of 'Beasts of England'.
Most of this time Mr. Jones had spent sitting
in the taproom of the Red Lion at Willingdon,
complaining to anyone who would listen of
the monstrous injustice he had suffered in
being turned out of his property by a pack
of good-for-nothing animals.
The other farmers sympathised in principle,
but they did not at first give him much help.
At heart, each of them was secretly wondering
whether he could not somehow turn Jones's
misfortune to his own advantage.
It was lucky that the owners of the two farms
which adjoined Animal Farm were on permanently
bad terms.
One of them, which was named Foxwood, was
a large, neglected, old-fashioned farm, much
overgrown by woodland, with all its pastures
worn out and its hedges in a disgraceful condition.
Its owner, Mr. Pilkington, was an easy-going
gentleman farmer who spent most of his time
in fishing or hunting according to the season.
The other farm, which was called Pinchfield,
was smaller and better kept.
Its owner was a Mr. Frederick, a tough, shrewd
man, perpetually involved in lawsuits and
with a name for driving hard bargains.
These two disliked each other so much that
it was difficult for them to come to any agreement,
even in defence of their own interests.
Nevertheless, they were both thoroughly frightened
by the rebellion on Animal Farm, and very
anxious to prevent their own animals from
learning too much about it.
At first they pretended to laugh to scorn
the idea of animals managing a farm for themselves.
The whole thing would be over in a fortnight,
they said.
They put it about that the animals on the
Manor Farm (they insisted on calling it the
Manor Farm; they would not tolerate the name
"Animal Farm") were perpetually fighting among
themselves and were also rapidly starving
to death.
When time passed and the animals had evidently
not starved to death, Frederick and Pilkington
changed their tune and began to talk of the
terrible wickedness that now flourished on
Animal Farm.
It was given out that the animals there practised
cannibalism, tortured one another with red-hot
horseshoes, and had their females in common.
This was what came of rebelling against the
laws of Nature, Frederick and Pilkington said.
However, these stories were never fully believed.
Rumours of a wonderful farm, where the human
beings had been turned out and the animals
managed their own affairs, continued to circulate
in vague and distorted forms, and throughout
that year a wave of rebelliousness ran through
the countryside.
Bulls which had always been tractable suddenly
turned savage, sheep broke down hedges and
devoured the clover, cows kicked the pail
over, hunters refused their fences and shot
their riders on to the other side.
Above all, the tune and even the words of
'Beasts of England' were known everywhere.
It had spread with astonishing speed.
The human beings could not contain their rage
when they heard this song, though they pretended
to think it merely ridiculous.
They could not understand, they said, how
even animals could bring themselves to sing
such contemptible rubbish.
Any animal caught singing it was given a flogging
on the spot.
And yet the song was irrepressible.
The blackbirds whistled it in the hedges,
the pigeons cooed it in the elms, it got into
the din of the smithies and the tune of the
church bells.
And when the human beings listened to it,
they secretly trembled, hearing in it a prophecy
of their future doom.
Early in October, when the corn was cut and
stacked and some of it was already threshed,
a flight of pigeons came whirling through
the air and alighted in the yard of Animal
Farm in the wildest excitement.
Jones and all his men, with half a dozen others
from Foxwood and Pinchfield, had entered the
five-barred gate and were coming up the cart-track
that led to the farm.
They were all carrying sticks, except Jones,
who was marching ahead with a gun in his hands.
Obviously they were going to attempt the recapture
of the farm.
This had long been expected, and all preparations
had been made.
Snowball, who had studied an old book of Julius
Caesar's campaigns which he had found in the
farmhouse, was in charge of the defensive
operations.
He gave his orders quickly, and in a couple
of minutes every animal was at his post.
As the human beings approached the farm buildings,
Snowball launched his first attack.
All the pigeons, to the number of thirty-five,
flew to and fro over the men's heads and muted
upon them from mid-air; and while the men
were dealing with this, the geese, who had
been hiding behind the hedge, rushed out and
pecked viciously at the calves of their legs.
However, this was only a light skirmishing
manoeuvre, intended to create a little disorder,
and the men easily drove the geese off with
their sticks.
Snowball now launched his second line of attack.
Muriel, Benjamin, and all the sheep, with
Snowball at the head of them, rushed forward
and prodded and butted the men from every
side, while Benjamin turned around and lashed
at them with his small hoofs.
But once again the men, with their sticks
and their hobnailed boots, were too strong
for them; and suddenly, at a squeal from Snowball,
which was the signal for retreat, all the
animals turned and fled through the gateway
into the yard.
The men gave a shout of triumph.
They saw, as they imagined, their enemies
in flight, and they rushed after them in disorder.
This was just what Snowball had intended.
As soon as they were well inside the yard,
the three horses, the three cows, and the
rest of the pigs, who had been lying in ambush
in the cowshed, suddenly emerged in their
rear, cutting them off.
Snowball now gave the signal for the charge.
He himself dashed straight for Jones.
Jones saw him coming, raised his gun and fired.
The pellets scored bloody streaks along Snowball's
back, and a sheep dropped dead.
Without halting for an instant, Snowball flung
his fifteen stone against Jones's legs.
Jones was hurled into a pile of dung and his
gun flew out of his hands.
But the most terrifying spectacle of all was
Boxer, rearing up on his hind legs and striking
out with his great iron-shod hoofs like a
stallion.
His very first blow took a stable-lad from
Foxwood on the skull and stretched him lifeless
in the mud.
At the sight, several men dropped their sticks
and tried to run.
Panic overtook them, and the next moment all
the animals together were chasing them round
and round the yard.
They were gored, kicked, bitten, trampled
on.
There was not an animal on the farm that did
not take vengeance on them after his own fashion.
Even the cat suddenly leapt off a roof onto
a cowman's shoulders and sank her claws in
his neck, at which he yelled horribly.
At a moment when the opening was clear, the
men were glad enough to rush out of the yard
and make a bolt for the main road.
And so within five minutes of their invasion
they were in ignominious retreat by the same
way as they had come, with a flock of geese
hissing after them and pecking at their calves
all the way.
All the men were gone except one.
Back in the yard Boxer was pawing with his
hoof at the stable-lad who lay face down in
the mud, trying to turn him over.
The boy did not stir.
"He is dead," said Boxer sorrowfully.
"I had no intention of doing that.
I forgot that I was wearing iron shoes.
Who will believe that I did not do this on
purpose?"
"No sentimentality, comrade!" cried Snowball
from whose wounds the blood was still dripping.
"War is war.
The only good human being is a dead one."
"I have no wish to take life, not even human
life," repeated Boxer, and his eyes were full
of tears.
"Where is Mollie?"
exclaimed somebody.
Mollie in fact was missing.
For a moment there was great alarm; it was
feared that the men might have harmed her
in some way, or even carried her off with
them.
In the end, however, she was found hiding
in her stall with her head buried among the
hay in the manger.
She had taken to flight as soon as the gun
went off.
And when the others came back from looking
for her, it was to find that the stable-lad,
who in fact was only stunned, had already
recovered and made off.
The animals had now reassembled in the wildest
excitement, each recounting his own exploits
in the battle at the top of his voice.
An impromptu celebration of the victory was
held immediately.
The flag was run up and 'Beasts of England'
was sung a number of times, then the sheep
who had been killed was given a solemn funeral,
a hawthorn bush being planted on her grave.
At the graveside Snowball made a little speech,
emphasising the need for all animals to be
ready to die for Animal Farm if need be.
The animals decided unanimously to create
a military decoration, "Animal Hero, First
Class," which was conferred there and then
on Snowball and Boxer.
It consisted of a brass medal (they were really
some old horse-brasses which had been found
in the harness-room), to be worn on Sundays
and holidays.
There was also "Animal Hero, Second Class,"
which was conferred posthumously on the dead
sheep.
There was much discussion as to what the battle
should be called.
In the end, it was named the Battle of the
Cowshed, since that was where the ambush had
been sprung.
Mr. Jones's gun had been found lying in the
mud, and it was known that there was a supply
of cartridges in the farmhouse.
It was decided to set the gun up at the foot
of the Flagstaff, like a piece of artillery,
and to fire it twice a year--once on October
the twelfth, the anniversary of the Battle
of the Cowshed, and once on Midsummer Day,
the anniversary of the Rebellion.
