A group of Legionnaires were marching across the scorching desert. They hadn't had water for three days and hadn't eaten for a week, but they did not crack and strode solidly on. Suddenly one of them froze. "Psssst" said he. His companions halted and trained their eyes to where the first legionnaire was pointing.
"Voila!", said he, " Regardez, mes amis. Isn't zat a bacon tree on ze 'orizon?" And sure enough there it stood, proud and defiant in the middle of the burning desert, the fabled bacon tree. Slowly they crept forward towards the object in the far distance. Inch by inch, centimeter by centimeter, until they were within a stone's throw of the bacon tree.
Closer and closer they crept, when suddenly a shot rang out, dropping one of the legionnaires in his tracks. The Legionnaires hit the ground as bullets thudded into the sand all around them and the other two returned fire while administering first aid to their wounded comrade. Even as they bandaged him they could hear his faint voice: "Zat was no bacon tree!" he gasped...
"Zat was an 'am bush."
