Although it was mid-afternoon, a number of them had so lain since early morning in the hot sun.

They were all bush dogs or wild-dogs, and so small was their courage that their thirst and physical pain from cords drawn too tight across veins and arteries, and their dim apprehension of the fate such treatment foreboded, led them to whimper and wail and howl their despair and suffering.
The next thirty hours were bad hours for Jerry.

The word had gone forth immediately that the taboo on him had been removed, and of the men and boys none was so low as to do him reverence.

About him, till night-fall, persisted a circle of teasers and tormenters.

They harangued him for his fall, sneered and jeered at him, rooted him about contemptuously with their feet, made a hollow in the sand out of which he could not roll and desposited him in it on his back, his four tied legs sticking ignominiously in the air above him.
And all he could do was growl and rage his helplessness.