As soon, then, as he came to an inn he halted, and ate with great satisfaction all the bread he had brought with him for his noonday and evening meals, and washed it down with a glass of beer, to buy which he spent his two last farthings.  This over, he drove his cow farther, but still in the direction of his mother’s village.  The heat meantime became more and more oppressive as noontime approached, and just then Hans came to a common which was an hour’s journey across.  Here he got into such a state of heat that his tongue clave to the roof of his mouth, and he thought to himself:  “This won’t do; I will just milk my cow, and refresh myself.”  Hans, therefore tied her to a stump of a tree, and, having no pail, placed his leathern cap below, and set to work, but not a drop of milk could he squeeze out.  He had placed himself, too, very awkwardly, and at last the impatient cow gave him such a kick on the head that he tumbled over on the ground, and for a long time knew not where he was.  Fortunately, not many hours after, a Butcher passed by, trundling a young pig along upon a wheelbarrow.  “What trick is this!” exclaimed he, helping up poor Hans; and Hans told him that all that had passed.  The Butcher then handed him his flask and said, “There, take a drink; it will revive you.  Your cow might well give no milk:  she is an old beast, and worth nothing at the best but for the plough or the butcher!”

“Eh! eh!” said Hans, pulling his hair over his eyes, “who would have thought it?  It is all very well when one can kill a beast like that at home, and make a profit of the flesh; but for my part I have no relish for cow’s flesh; it is too tough for me!  Ah! a young pig like yours is the thing that tastes something like, let alone the sausages!”

“Well now, for love of you,” said the Butcher, “I will make an exchange, and let you have my pig for your cow.”

“Heaven reward you for your kindness!” cried Hans; and, giving up the cow, he untied the pig from the barrow and took into his hands the string with which it was tied.

Hans walked on again, considering how everything had happened just as he wished, and how all his vexations had turned out for the best after all!  Presently a boy overtook him carrying a fine white goose under his arm, and after they had said “Good-day” to each other, Hans began to talk about his luck, and what profitable exchanges he had made.  The Boy on his part told him that he was carrying the goose to a christening-feast.  “Just lift it,” said he to Hans, holding it up by its wings, “just feel how heavy it is; why, it has been fattened up for the last eight weeks, and whoever bites it when it is cooked will have to wipe the grease from each side of his mouth!”

“Yes,” said Hans, weighing it with one hand, “it is weighty, but my pig is no trifle either.”

While he was speaking the Boy kept looking about on all sides, and shaking his head suspiciously, and at length he broke out, “I am afraid it is not all right about your pig.  In the village through which I have just come, one has been stolen out of the sty of the mayor himself; and I am afraid, very much afraid, you have it now in your hand!  They have sent out several people, and it would be a very bad job for you if they found you with the pig; the best thing you can do is to hide it in some dark corner!”