A westbound wagon train, lost and starving in the vast, unforgiving wilderness, stumbled upon an unlikely sight: an old Jewish man, calmly seated beneath a lone, scraggly tree. Days they’d traveled, with nothing but dust, despair, and dwindling rations. Their leader, a grizzled mountain man named Jedediah, cautiously approached.
“Excuse me, friend,” Jedediah rasped, his voice as dry as the parched earth, “we’re lost, out of supplies… seen anyone else for days?”
The old man, without looking up from his whittling, calmly replied, “Well now, that depends on your definition of ‘anyone else.’ I saw a badger this mornin’, a particularly plump one, if I may say so myself. Quite the fellow. Also, a family of prairie dogs engaged in a rather spirited debate about the merits of dandelion versus thistle for dinner. Fascinating stuff.”
Jedediah blinked, then squinted. “Sir, with all due respect, we’re talking about *people*. Do you know the way out of this godforsaken place?”
The old man chuckled, a dry, rustling sound like autumn leaves. “The way out? My dear fellow, the way *in* is just as mysterious. But if you’re hungry, I have something that might interest you.”
He gestured to a small, battered satchel beside him. Jedediah, his stomach rumbling in protest, cautiously approached. Inside the satchel, nestled amongst some dried herbs and strange-looking roots, were several… bagels. Not just any bagels, mind you, but perfectly formed, glistening, golden-brown bagels. The aroma alone was enough to revive the spirits of the entire wagon train.
Jedediah, speechless with astonishment, stammered, “Bagels…? In the middle of nowhere…?”
The old man smiled. “A man’s gotta have his priorities. Besides,” he winked, “I’ve been practicing my sourdough starter for… well, let’s just say a while. Now, I’ll trade you a few of these for a good story. I haven’t heard a decent tale in weeks. And maybe a bit of that jerky you’re carrying?”
And so, the lost pioneers shared their dwindling supplies and their tales of woe with the mysterious old man, whose bagels seemed to possess a magical ability to fill bellies and lift spirits. They eventually found their way out, thanks in part to a surprisingly accurate map the old man produced from his satchel (alongside an impressively large collection of perfectly preserved lox). But what they couldn’t explain was the sheer, miraculous presence of those bagels, the perfect sustenance in a sea of despair. They never did quite figure out how he got them there – perhaps it was magic, perhaps it was simply the uncanny ability of one man to always be prepared. Either way, they learned a valuable lesson that day: never underestimate the power of a good bagel, and the kindness of a stranger with a well-stocked satchel.
