A group of legionnaires strode through the scorching desert.
They hadn’t had water for three days and hadn’t eaten for a week but they did not crack, and kept marching solidly on. Suddenly one of them froze, "Psssst" said he. His companion halted, and strained their eyes to where the first legionnaire was pointing.
"Le voila", said he, "Regardez, mes amis, isn’t zat a bacon tree on ze ‘orizon"? And sure enough, there it stood, proudly and defiant in the middle of the desert, a true bacon tree.
Slowly they crept forward towards the mystery object far off. Inch by inch, centimetre by centimetre, until they were within a stone’s throw of the bacon tree.
Even nearer they crept, and suddenly, a shot rang out, dropping one of the legionnaires in his tracks. The other legionnaires hit the ground as bullets thudded into the sand around them. The other two returned fire, and gave first aid to their wounded companion. Even as they bandaged him, they could hear his faint voice -
"Zat was no bacon tree," he gasped, "Zat was an ‘am bush."
