They enjoyed my defeat as much as any low white people could have done.

They craned their necks and laughed at me (for a raven CAN laugh, just like a man), they squalled insulting remarks after me as long as they could see me.

They were nothing but ravens--I knew that--what they thought of me could be a matter of no consequence--and yet when even a raven shouts after you, "What a hat!" "Oh, pull down your vest!" and that sort of thing, it hurts you and humiliates you, and there is no getting around it with fine reasoning and pretty arguments.
Animals talk to each other, of course.

There can be no question about that; but I suppose there are very few people who can understand them.
I never knew but one man who could.

I knew he could, however, because he told me so himself.