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 separated from her companions, she wanted to rejoin them, and the more Gudbrand tugged at her tether, the more piteously she baaed. 'Deuce take the silly brute!' shouted Gudbrand; 'she's as obstinate and whimpering as my neighbor's wife. Who'll rid me of this bawling, bellowing little beast? I must get clear of her, at any price.' 'It's a bargain, if you choose, neighbor,' said a country fellow who was just passing, with a fat goose under his arm. 'Here, take this fine bird, instead; she's worth two of that ugly sheep that's going to split its throat in less than an hour, anyhow.' 'Done!' said Gudbrand; 'a live goose is as good as a dead ewe, any day;' and so he took the goose in exchange. But it was no easy matter to manage his new bargain. The goose turned out to be a very disagreeable companion; for, finding itself no longer on the ground, it fought with its bill, its feet, and its wings, so that Gudbrand was soon tired of struggling to hold it. 'Pah!' growled he; 'the goose is an ugly, ill-grained creature, and my wife never would have one about the house.' With this reflection, he changed the goose, at the first farm-house he came to, for a fine rooster of rich plumage and furnished with a grand pair of spurs. This time, he was thoroughly satisfied. The rooster, it is true, squawked from time to time, in a voice rather too hoarse to gratify most delicate ears; but as his claws had been tied together with twine and he was carried head downwards, he finally gave up and resigned himself to his fate. The only unpleasant circumstance now remaining was that the day was rapidly drawing to a close. Gudbrand, who had started before dawn, now found himself fasting, at sundown, without a farthing in his pocket. He still had a long walk before him, and the good man felt that his legs were giving out and that his stomach craved refreshment. Some bold step must be taken; and so, at the first wayside tavern, Gudbrand sold his rooster for a shilling, and as he had a raging appetite, he spent the last doit of it for his supper. 'After all,' said he, the while, 'what use would a rooster be to me, if I had to die of hunger?' As he, at length, drew near his own dwelling, however, Gudbrand began to meditate seriously on the curious turn things had taken with him, and, before entering his home, he stopped at the door of Peter the Gray beard, as a neighbor of his was called in the surrounding country. 'Well, neighbor,' said Peter, 'how have you prospered in the town?' 'Oh! so, so,' answered Gudbrand; 'I can't say that I've been very lucky, nor have I much to complain of either;' and he went on to tell all that had happened.