The pigs did not actually work, but directed and supervised the others.
With their superior knowledge it was natural that they should assume the leadership.
Boxer and Clover would harness themselves to the cutter or the horse-rake (no bits or reins were needed in these days, of course)
and tramp steadily round and round the field with a pig walking behind
and calling out “Gee up, comrade!” or “Whoa back, comrade!” as the case might be.
And every animal down to the humblest worked at turning the hay and gathering it.
Even the ducks and hens toiled to and fro all day in the sun, carrying tiny wisps of hay in their beaks.
In the end they finished the harvest in two days’ less time than it had usually taken Jones and his men.
Moreover, it was the biggest harvest that the farm had ever seen.
There was no wastage whatever; the hens and ducks with their sharp eyes had gathered up the very last stalk.
And not an animal on the farm had stolen so much as a mouthful.
All through that summer the work of the farm went like clockwork.
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