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!«