The animals watched them, and a murmur of dismay went round. Two of the men had produced a crowbar and a sledge hammer.
They were going to knock the windmill down. “Impossible!” cried Napoleon. “We have built the walls far too thick for that.
They could not knock it down in a week. Courage, comrades!” But Benjamin was watching the movements of the men intently.
Slowly, and with an air almost of amusement, Benjamin nodded his long muzzle.
“I thought so,” he said. “Do you not see what they are doing? In another moment they are going to pack blasting powder into that hole.”
Terrified, the animals waited. It was impossible now to venture out of the shelter of the buildings.
After a few minutes the men were seen to be running in all directions. Then there was a deafening roar.
The pigeons swirled into the air, and all the animals, except Napoleon, flung themselves flat on their bellies and hid their faces.
When they got up again, a huge cloud of black smoke was hanging where the windmill had been.
Slowly the breeze drifted it away. The windmill had ceased to exist!
At this sight the animals' courage returned to them. The fear and despair they had felt a moment earlier
were drowned in their rage against this vile, contemptible act.
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