But when, after making up his mind which way to go, Samson tried to practise instead of theorise, he found the task not quite so easy. His plan was to go out of the park to the south, and then work round to the west; but he had not gone fifty yards beyond the park, and was chuckling to himself about how easy it was, and how an enemy might get in, when, just as he was saying to himself, “Sentinels, indeed! Why, I’d make better sentinels out of turnips!”
“Halt!” rang out, and a man appeared from behind a tree.
“Halt? What for? You know me.”
“Yes,” said the sentry. “I know you. Can’t go out of the lines without a pass.”
“What! Not for a bit of a walk?”
“Where’s your pass?”
“Didn’t get one. No pass wanted for a bit of a ramble.”
“Go back.”
“Nonsense! You won’t turn a man—”
“Your pass, or go back.”