Poor Hans grew pale with fright. »For heaven's sake,« said he, »help me out of this scrape, I am a stranger in these parts. Take my pig and give me your goose.«—»It will be running some risk,« answered the man, »but I will do it sooner than that you should come to grief.« And so, taking the cord in his hand, he drove the pig quickly along a by-path, and lucky Hans went on his way home with the goose under his arm. »The more I think of it,« said he to himself, »the better the bargain seems. First I get the roast goose, then the fat that will last a whole year for bread and dripping, and lastly the beautiful white feathers which I can stuff my pillow with; how comfortably I shall sleep upon it and how pleased my mother will be!«