General Custer is fighting on the frontier. For days he tracks his foe over open country when, finally, his forward scouts report a massing of Sioux over the next hill. With battle finally upon him, Custer knows that he has a short time to prepare his men before they fight.
"Men, tomorrow we go up against the enemy. You may be afraid, but fear not - tomorrow morning I shall lay on such a breakfast as you have never seen: eggs, bacon, pancakes, the lot. With a breakfast like that, our victory is assured."
But after Custer finishes with this rousing speech, one of his lieutenants pulls him aside:
"I love the idea, Sir, there's just one slight problem. We ran out of bacon yesterday."
"What? But how can we mount a successful cavalry assault without a bacon breakfast? It would be insanity. We'll be slaughtered for sure."
Shaken but still determined, Custer tries to think of a solution.
"Ah! I have it! Five or so miles back, I do believe I spied a glade of bacon trees. Send out our fastest scout and have him gather a satchel of fresh bacon. Alert the cooks that bacon will be here within the hour!"
The scout is duly dispatched, but after an hour there is still no sign of him. Another hour passes, then two.
Finally, just as the weary sun kisses the horizon, it reveals the silhouette of a horse and rider in the distance, the horse slowly walking towards camp.
As the horse gets nearer, it becomes clear why. The rider is slumped over in the saddle. As he continues to approach, the lookouts see that the rider's uniform is pierced with a dozen or more feathered shafts. Half a mile outside of camp, the rider tumbles from the saddle, his body crumpling onto the dusty earth.
General Custer rides out with all haste to meet his stricken scout. He gets there in time to hold the man's bloody, broken body in his arms, to see the light fade from his eyes, and to hear him choke out a final warning.
"They weren't... bacon trees, Sir. It... Was... A ham bush."