"Hark ye," said he, "my good friend. Your pig may get you into a scrape. In the village I have just come from the squire has had a pig stolen out of his sty. I was dreadfully afraid when I saw you that you had got the squire's pig. It will be a bad job if they catch you, for the least they'll do will be to throw you into the horse-pond."
Poor Hans was sadly frightened.
"Good man," cried he, "pray get me out of this scrape. You know this country better than I; take my pig and give me the goose."
"I ought to have something into the bargain," said the countryman; "however, I'll not bear hard upon you, as you are in trouble."
Then he took the string in his hand and drove off the pig by a side path, while Hans went on his way homeward free from care.
"After all," thought he, "I have the best of the bargain. First there will be a capital roast, then the fat will find me in goose-grease for six months, and then there are all the beautiful white feathers. I will put them into my pillow, and then I am sure I shall sleep soundly without rocking. How happy my mother will be!"
As he came to the last village he saw a scissors-grinder, with his wheel, working away and singing—
"O'er hill and o'er dale so happy I roam,
Work light and live well, all the world is my home;
Who so blythe, so merry as I?"
Hans stood looking for a while, and at last said—
"You must be well off, master grinder, you seem so happy at your work."