There were three French Foreign Legionnaires walking through the desert under a baking sun.
They were fully equipped with enough water for days, and they had plenty of food in their packs.
On the shimmering horizon mirages came and went and came again.
There were visions of swimming pools attended by dusky maidens, stalls full of ice-cream, sorbets, freshly-whipped smoothies of every conceivable flavour.
But no avail, the legionnaires did not crack, but kept marching solidly on.
Suddenly one of them froze, “Psssst” said he.
His companions halted, and strained their eyes to where the first legionnaire was pointing.
“Le voila”, said he, “Regardez, mes amis, isn’t that a bacon tree on the horizon”?
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 afar off.
Inch by inch,centimetre by centimetre they crept forward, 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 two returned fire, and gave first aid to their wounded companion.
Even as they bandaged him, and poured water over his face, they could hear his faint voice “That was no bacon tree,” he gasped, “that was an am bush.”
Image used under a Collective Commons License from: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bacon#/media/File:Schweinebauch-1.jpg