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It might be that their lives were hard and that not all of their hopes had been fulfilled; but they were conscious that they were not as other animals.

If they went hungry, it was not from feeding tyrannical human beings; if they worked hard, at least they worked for themselves.

No creature among them went upon two legs.

No creature called any other creature "Master." All animals were equal.

One day in early summer Squealer ordered the sheep to follow him, and led them out to a piece of waste ground at the other end of the farm, which had become overgrown with birch saplings.

The sheep spent the whole day there browsing at the leaves under Squealer's supervision.

In the evening he returned to the farmhouse himself, but, as it was warm weather, told the sheep to stay where they were.

It ended by their remaining there for a whole week, during which time the other animals saw nothing of them.

Squealer was with them for the greater part of every day.

He was, he said, teaching them to sing a new song, for which privacy was needed.

It was just after the sheep had returned, on a pleasant evening when the animals had finished work and were making their way back to the farm buildings, that the terrified neighing of a horse sounded from the yard.

Startled, the animals stopped in their tracks.

It was Clover's voice.

She neighed again, and all the animals broke into a gallop and rushed into the yard.

Then they saw what Clover had seen.

It was a pig walking on his hind legs.

Yes, it was Squealer.

A little awkwardly, as though not quite used to supporting his considerable bulk in that position, but with perfect balance, he was strolling across the yard.

And a moment later, out from the door of the farmhouse came a long file of pigs, all walking on their hind legs.

Some did it better than others, one or two were even a trifle unsteady and looked as though they would have liked the support of a stick, but every one of them made his way right round the yard successfully.

And finally there was a tremendous baying of dogs and a shrill crowing from the black cockerel, and out came Napoleon himself, majestically upright, casting haughty glances from side to side, and with his dogs gambolling round him.

He carried a whip in his trotter.

There was a deadly silence.

Amazed, terrified, huddling together, the animals watched the long line of pigs march slowly round the yard.

It was as though the world had turned upside-down.

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