Destruction of the windmill by storm

November came with raging south-west winds that forced a halt to construction because the cement could no longer be mixed. Then, on a single night, the gale grew so violent that the farm buildings rocked on their foundations and several tiles were torn from the barn roof. The hens woke squawking in terror, having dreamed simultaneously of a distant gunshot. At dawn the animals emerged to find the flagstaff blown down and an elm tree at the foot of the orchard plucked up like a radish. But the sight that drew a cry of despair from every throat was the windmill: it lay in ruins, the fruit of nearly a year of labor scattered across the ground.

With one accord the animals dashed to the spot. Napoleon, who seldom moved out of a walk, raced ahead of them all. There it lay, leveled to its foundations, the stones they had broken and carried so laboriously now a litter of rubble. For a long moment no one could speak. Napoleon paced to and fro in silence, his tail rigid and twitching sharply from side to side—a sign of intense mental activity. Suddenly he halted as though his mind were made up. "Comrades," he said quietly, "do you know who is responsible for this? Do you know the enemy who has come in the night and overthrown our windmill? SNOWBALL!" He roared the name like thunder. "Snowball has done this thing! In sheer malignity, thinking to set back our plans and avenge himself for his ignominious expulsion, this traitor has crept here under cover of night and destroyed our work of nearly a year. Comrades, here and now I pronounce the death sentence upon Snowball. 'Animal Hero, Second Class,' and half a bushel of apples to any animal who brings him to justice. A full bushel to anyone who captures him alive!"

The animals were shocked beyond measure to learn that even Snowball could be guilty of such an act. A cry of indignation went up, and everyone began devising ways to catch him if he ever returned. Almost immediately the footprints of a pig were discovered in the grass not far from the knoll. The tracks could be traced only a few yards, but they appeared to lead to a hole in the hedge. Napoleon snuffed deeply at them and pronounced them to be Snowball's. He gave it as his opinion that Snowball had probably come from the direction of Foxwood Farm.

"No more delays, comrades!" cried Napoleon once the footprints had been examined. "There is work to be done. This very morning we begin rebuilding the windmill, and we will build all through the winter, rain or shine. We will teach this miserable traitor that he cannot undo our work so easily. Remember, comrades, there must be no alteration in our plans: they shall be carried out to the day. Forward, comrades! Long live the windmill! Long live Animal Farm!"