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.
AS WINTER 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 nose?’
‚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 different colours.
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.
|to neme||nadawać imię|
|to set up||zakładać|
|a piece||kawałek, część|
|Midsummer(‚s) Day||dzień św. Jana|
|to be late for work||spóźniać się do pracy|
|to excuse||tłumaczyć, usprawiedliwiać|
|to complain of (pain etc)||skarżyć się na +acc|
|although||chociaż; mimo, że|
|on pretext||pod pretekstem|
|to gaze at sth||wpatrywać się w coś|
|to stroll||spacerować, przechadzać się|
|to flirt with (idea etc)||zabawiać się|
|to chew||żuć, przeżuwać|
|I am almost certain||jestem prawie pewien|
|to talk to sb||rozmawiać z kimś, mówić do kogoś|
|to allow||pozwalać, zezwalać|
|What does that mean||co to ma znaczyć|
|It isn’t true||to nie prawda|
|to prance along/up and down/about||paradować|
|to paw the ground||drzeć ziemię kopytami|
|word of honour||słowo honoru|
|to take to one’s heels||brać (wziąć) nogi za pas, dawać (dać) nogę|
|Without saying anything to the others||nie mówiąc nic innym|
|a little pile||mały stos|
|lump sugar||kosta cukru|
|nobody knows his whereabouts||nikt nie zna miejsca jego pobytu|
|to report||donieść, relacjonować|
|on the other side||po drugiej stronie|
|shaft||(AUT, TECH) wał(ek)|
|painted red and black||pomalowany na czerwono i czarno|
|red-faced||o czerwonej twarzy|
|who looked like||który wyglądał jak|
|to clip||przycinać, obcinać|
|to appear||wydawać się, wydać się|
|to enjoy o.s.||dobrze się bawić|