Hans in Luck

The rider, who had heard him, stopped and called out, “ Hollo! Hans, why do you go on foot, then?” “I will tell you what,” said the rider, “we will exchange: I will give you my horse, and you can give me your lump.” “With all my heart,” said Hans, “but I can tell you, you will have to crawl along with it.” The rider got down, took the gold, and helped Hans up; then gave him the bridle tight in his hands and said, “If you want to go at a really good pace, you must click your tongue and call out, ‘Jup! Jup!’ ” Hans was heartily delighted as he sat upon the horse and rode away so bold and free. After a little while he thought that it ought to go faster, and he began to click with his tongue and call out, “Jup! Jup!” The horse put himself into a sharp trot, and before Hans knew where he was, he was thrown off and lying in a ditch which separated the field from the highway. The horse would have gone off too if it had not been stopped by a countryman, who was coming along the road and driving a cow before him. Hans got his limbs together and stood up on his legs again, but he was vexed, and said to the countryman, “It is a poor joke, this riding, especially when one gets hold of a mare like this, that kicks and throws one off, so that one has a chance of breaking one’s neck. Never again will I mount it. Now I like your cow, for one can walk quietly behind her, and have, over and above, one’s milk, butter and cheese every day without fail. What would I not give to have such a cow.” “Well,” said the countryman, “if it would give you so much pleasure, I do not mind giving the cow for the horse.” Hans agreed with the greatest delight; the countryman jumped upon the horse, and rode quickly away. Hans drove his cow quietly before him, and thought over his lucky bargain. “If only I have a morsel of bread⁠—and that can hardly fail me⁠—I can eat butter and cheese with it as often as I like; if I am thirsty, I can milk my cow and drink the milk. Good heart, what more can I want?” When he came to an inn he made a halt, and in his great content ate up what he had with him⁠—his dinner and supper⁠—and all he had, and with his last few farthings had half a glass of beer. Then he drove his cow onwards along the road to his mother’s village. By good fortune a butcher just then came along the road with a wheelbarrow, in which lay a young pig. “What sort of a trick is this?” cried he, and helped the good Hans up. Hans told him what had happened. The butcher gave him his flask and said, “Take a drink and refresh yourself. The cow will certainly give no milk, it is an old beast; at the best it is only fit for the plough, or for the butcher.” “Well, well,” said Hans, as he stroked his hair down on his head, “who would have thought it? Certainly it is a fine thing when one can kill a beast like that at home; what meat one has! But I do not care much for beef, it is not juicy enough for me. A young pig like that now is the thing to have, it tastes quite different; and then there are the sausages!” “Hark ye, Hans,” said the butcher, “out of love for you I will exchange, and will let you have the pig for the cow.” “Heaven repay you for your kindness!” said Hans as he gave up the cow, whilst the pig was unbound from the barrow, and the cord by which it was tied was put in his hand. Hans went on, and thought to himself how everything was going just as he wished; if he did meet with any vexation it was immediately set right. Presently there joined him a lad who was carrying a fine white goose under his arm. They said good morning to each other, and Hans began to tell of his good luck, and how he had always made such good bargains. The boy told him that he was taking the goose to a christening-feast. “Just lift her,” added he, and laid hold of her by the wings; “how heavy she is⁠—she has been fattened up for the last eight weeks. Whoever has a bit of her when she is roasted will have to wipe the fat from both sides of his mouth.” Meanwhile the lad