I suppose many other people have had these sensations under similar conditions, but they were new to me.
I turned slowly around and looked for a light; I think I never wanted so much to see some sign of human habitation as I did at that moment.
What a coddled world we live in, truly.

That being out after dark in a meadow should so disturb the very centre of our being! In all my life, indeed, and I suppose the same is true of ninety-nine out of a hundred of the people in America to-day, I had never before found myself where nothing stood between nature and me, where I had no place to sleep, no shelter for the night--nor any prospect of finding one.

I was infinitely less resourceful at that moment than a rabbit, or a partridge, or a gray squirrel.
Presently I sat down on the ground where I had been standing, with a vague fear (absurd to look back upon) that it, too, in some manner might slip away from under me.

And as I sat there I began to have familiar gnawings at the pit of my stomach, and I remembered that, save for a couple of Mrs.Clark's doughnuts eaten while I was sitting on the hillside, ages ago, I had had nothing since my early breakfast.
With this thought of my predicament--and the glimpse I had of myself "hungry and homeless"-- the humour of the whole situation suddenly came over me, and, beginning with a chuckle, I wound up, as my mind dwelt upon my recent adventures, with a long, loud, hearty laugh.
As I laughed--and what a roar it made in that darkness!--I got up on my feet and looked up at the sky.

One bright star shone out over the woods, and in high heavens I could see dimly the white path of the Milky Way.
And all at once I seemed again to be in command of myself and of the world.