Even in his unconsciousness, lying on his side and quivering, he made rapid, spasmodic movements of his legs as if running for'ard to Skipper.

The boys looked on and laughed, and when he no longer quivered and churned his legs they continued to laugh.

Born in savagery, having lived in savagery all their lives and known naught else, their sense of humour was correspondingly savage.

To them, the sight of a stunned and possibly dead puppy was a side-splitting, ludicrous event.
Not until the fourth minute ticked off did returning consciousness enable Jerry to crawl to his feet and with wide-spread legs and swimming eyes adjust himself to the _Arangi's_ roll.

Yet with the first glimmerings of consciousness persisted the one idea that he must gain to Skipper.
Blacks?
In his anxiety and solicitude and love they did not count.