1 He was trying to kick his way out.
2 They were gored, kicked, bitten, trampled on.
3 Jones and his men suddenly found themselves being butted and kicked from all sides.
4 The time had been when a few kicks from Boxer's hoofs would have smashed the van to matchwood.
5 They rolled in the dew, they cropped mouthfuls of the sweet summer grass, they kicked up clods of the black earth and snuffed its rich scent.
6 The animals chased them right down to the bottom of the field, and got in some last kicks at them as they forced their way through the thorn hedge.
7 Some hams hanging in the kitchen were taken out for burial, and the barrel of beer in the scullery was stove in with a kick from Boxer's hoof, otherwise nothing in the house was touched.
8 Bulls which had always been tractable suddenly turned savage, sheep broke down hedges and devoured the clover, cows kicked the pail over, hunters refused their fences and shot their riders on to the other side.
9 With the ring of light from his lantern dancing from side to side, he lurched across the yard, kicked off his boots at the back door, drew himself a last glass of beer from the barrel in the scullery, and made his way up to bed, where Mrs. Jones was already snoring.