Late one summer evening, a rumour raced across the farm: Boxer had fallen. He had gone out alone to drag a load of stone down to the windmill, and now he lay on his side, unable to get up. Two pigeons flew in with the news, and the animals feared the worst.

About half the animals rushed to the knoll where the windmill stood. There lay Boxer, between the shafts of the cart, his neck stretched out, unable even to raise his head. His eyes were glazed, his sides matted with sweat, and a thin stream of blood trickled from his mouth. Clover dropped to her knees at his side, her old eyes filling with tears.

Too late, someone thought of racing ahead and shutting the five-barred gate, but the van was already through it, rapidly disappearing down the road. Boxer was never seen again.

Boxer's death exposed the gap between the revolution's ideals and its reality. Old Major had taught that no animal must ever tyrannise over his own kind, and that all animals are equal. Yet the pigs, who had reduced the commandments to 'Four legs good, two legs bad,' now orchestrated the slaughter of their most loyal worker. The very principles that had inspired the Rebellion were being inverted.

In the end, the pigs completed their transformation. They walked on their hind legs, wore clothes, and carried whips. When the neighbouring farmers visited, the animals could no longer distinguish pig from man. The face of the pig had become the face of the human oppressor, just as Boxer's life had been sacrificed to a system that had betrayed the equality it once promised.