there was the schoolhouse for the young pigs, which was started in March.
Sometimes the long hours on insufficient food were hard to bear, but Boxer never faltered.
In nothing that he said or did was there any sign that his strength was not what it had been.
It was only his appearance that was a little altered; his hide was less shiny than it had used to be, and his great haunches seemed to have shrunken.
The others said, “Boxer will pick up when the spring grass comes on”; but the spring came and Boxer grew no fatter.
Sometimes on the slope leading to the top of the quarry, when he braced his muscles against the weight of some vast boulder,
it seemed that nothing kept him on his feet except the will to continue.
At such times his lips were seen to form the words, “I will work harder”; he had no voice left.
Once again Clover and Benjamin warned him to take care of his health, but Boxer paid no attention.
His twelfth birthday was approaching. He did not care what happened so long as a good store of stone was accumulated before he went on pension.
Late one evening in the summer, a sudden rumour ran round the farm that something had happened to Boxer.
He had gone out alone to drag a load of stone down to the windmill. And sure enough, the rumour was true.
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