He gibbered his own rage and hurt, and, stooping, dealt Jerry a tremendous blow alongside the head and neck.

Being in mid-leap when he received the blow Jerry was twistingly somersaulted sidewise before he struck the deck on his back.
As swiftly as he could scramble to footing and charge, he returned to the attack, but was checked by Skipper's: "Jerry! Stop it! Come here!" He obeyed, but only by prodigious effort, his neck bristling and his lips writhing clear of his teeth as he passed the mate.

For the first time there was a whimper in his throat; but it was not the whimper of fear, nor of pain, but of outrage, and of desire to continue the battle which he struggled to control at Skipper's behest.
Stepping out on deck, Skipper picked him up and patted and soothed him the while he expressed his mind to the mate.
"Borckman, you ought to be ashamed.

You ought to be shot or have your block knocked off for this.

A puppy, a little puppy scarcely weaned.