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.
drew on, Mollie became more and more troublesome. She was late for work every morning and
excused herself by saying that she had overslept, and she complained of mysterious pains, although her
appetite was excellent. On every kind of pretext she would run away from work and go to the drinking pool,
where she would stand foolishly gazing at her own reflection in the water. But there were also rumours of
something more serious. One day, as Mollie strolled blithely into the yard, flirting her long tail and chewing
at a stalk of hay, Clover took her aside.
"Mollie," she said, "I have something very serious to say to you. This morning I saw you looking over the
hedge that divides Animal Farm from Foxwood. One of Mr. Pilkington's men was standing on the other side
of the hedge. And−I was a long way away, but I am almost certain I saw this−he was talking to you and you
were allowing him to stroke your nose. What does that mean, Mollie?"
"He didn't! I wasn't! It isn't true!" cried Mollie, beginning to prance about and paw the ground.
"Mollie! Look me in the face. Do you give me your word of honour that that man was not stroking your
"It isn't true!" repeated Mollie, but she could not look Clover in the face, and the next moment she took to her
heels and galloped away into the field.
A thought struck Clover. Without saying anything to the others, she went to Mollie's stall and turned over the
straw with her hoof. Hidden under the straw was a little pile of lump sugar and several bunches of ribbon of
Three days later Mollie disappeared. For some weeks nothing was known of her whereabouts, then the
pigeons reported that they had seen her on the other side of Willingdon. She was between the shafts of a
smart dogcart painted red and black, which was standing outside a public−house. A fat red−faced man in
check breeches and gaiters, who looked like a publican, was stroking her nose and feeding her with sugar.
Her coat was newly clipped and she wore a scarlet ribbon round her forelock. She appeared to be enjoying
herself, so the pigeons said. None of the animals ever mentioned Mollie again.
In January there came bitterly hard weather. The earth was like iron, and nothing could be done in the fields.
Many meetings were held in the big barn, and the pigs occupied themselves with planning out the work of the
coming season. It had come to be accepted that the pigs, who were manifestly cleverer than the other animals,
should decide all questions of farm policy, though their decisions had to be ratified by a majority vote. This
arrangement would have worked well enough if it had not been for the disputes between Snowball and
Napoleon. These two disagreed at every point where disagreement was possible. If one of them suggested
sowing a bigger acreage with barley, the other was certain to demand a bigger acreage of oats, and if one of
them said that such and such a field was just right for cabbages, the other would declare that it was useless for
anything except roots. Each had his own following, and there were some violent debates. At the Meetings
Snowball often won over the majority by his brilliant speeches, but Napoleon was better at canvassing
support for himself in between times. He was especially successful with the sheep. Of late the sheep had
taken to bleating "Four legs good, two legs bad" both in and out of season, and they often interrupted the
Meeting with this. It was noticed that they were especially liable to break into "Four legs good, two legs bad"
at crucial moments in Snowball's speeches. Snowball had made a close study of some back numbers of the
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