rand stopped the trader and exchanged his
cow for the horse.

Once mounted on the charger's back, our hero felt some qualms of regret,
for he was old and heavy, while the horse was young, frisky, and
headstrong, so that, in less than half an hour, behold, our would-be
cavalier was on foot again, vainly striving to drag along by the bridle
a creature that cocked up his head at every puff of wind, and capered
and pranced at every stone that lay in his path.

'This is a poor bargain I've made,' thought Gudbrand, when, just at that
moment, he descried a peasant driving along a hog so fine and fat that
its stomach touched the ground.

'A nail that is useful is better than a diamond that glitters and can be
turned to nothing, as my wife often says,' reflected Gudbrand; and, with
that, he traded off his horse for the hog.

It was a bright idea to be sure, but our good man had counted without
his host. Don Porker was tired, and wouldn't budge an inch. Gudbrand
talked to him, coaxed him, swore at him, but all in vain; he dragged him
by the snout, he pushed him from behind, he whacked him on both his fat
sides with a cudgel, but it was only labor lost, and Mr. Hog remained
there in the middle of the dusty road like a stranded whale. The poor
farmer was yielding to despair, when, at the very nick of time, there
came along a country lad leading a she-goat, that, with an udder all
swollen with milk, skipped, ran, and played about, in a manner charming
to behold.

'There! that's the very thing I want!' exclaimed Gudbrand. 'I'd far
rather have that gay, sprightly creature than this huge, stupid brute.'
Whereupon, without an instant's hesitation, he exchanged the hog for the
she-goat.

All went well for another half-hour. The young madam with her long horns
greatly amused Gudbrand, who laughed at her pranks till his sides ached.
In fact, too, the goat pulled him along; but, when one is on the wrong
side of forty, one soon gets tired of scrambling over the rocks; and so
the farmer, happening to meet a shepherd feeding his flock, traded his
she-goat for a ewe. 'I'll have just as much milk,' mused he, 'from that
animal as from the other, and, at least, she will keep quiet, and not
worry either my wife or me.'

Gudbrand was right, in one respect, for there is nothing more gentle
than a ewe. This one had no tricks; she neither capered nor butted with
her head, but she stood perfectly still and bleated all the time.
Finding herself