"No, no," cried the raven; "don't shoot me, don't shoot me, and I'll help you."
"Well," said Boots, "I never heard of any one who boasted he had eaten roast raven, and since you are so eager to save your life, I may just as well spare it."
So he threw down his gun, and the raven came flying down to him, and said—
"Here, up on this fell there is a baby Troll walking up and down, for he has lost his way, and can't get down again. I will help you up, and then you can lead him home, and ask a boon which will stand you in good stead. When you get to the Troll's house, he will offer you all the grandest things he has, but you should not heed them a pin. Mind you take nothing else but the little grey ass, which stands behind the stable door."
Then the raven took Boots on his back and flew up on the hill with him, and put him off there. When he had gone about on it a bit, he heard the baby Troll howling and whining, because it couldn't get down again. So the lad talked kindly to it, and they got the best friends in the world, and he said he would help it down and guide it to the old Troll's house, that it mightn't lose itself on the way back. Then they went to the raven, and he took them both on his back, and carried them off to the hill Troll's house.
