"Well enough," Amos answered, "and better still if I can get rid of that pestering deer and her fawn. The two have laid waste my garden patch. See yonder!" he pointed with the squirrel rifle. "And it won't be good for the two the next time they come nibbling around here!" Pretty Audrey Billberry gripped little Tinie's hand until the child squealed and hopped on one foot. They looked at each other, then at the gun. Fright came into their eyes. Audrey tried to laugh lightly. "When you kill that deer be sure to bring me a piece, neighbor Tingley," she said, as unconcerned as you please, and away she went with the little girl at her side. When they reached home Audrey Billberry turned the wood button on the door and flung back her head. "Kill a deer and her fawn! There is no fear, Tinie. Why"--she scoffed--"Amos Tingley's got only lead to load his rifle. I saw." She put her hands to her sides and laughed and danced around the room. "Lead can't kill a deer and her fawn. It takes silver! Silver! Do you hear that, Tinie? Silver hammered and molded round to load the gun. And when, I'd like to know, would skinflint Amos Tingley, the miser, ever destroy a silver coin by pounding it into a ball to load a gun? There's nothing to fear. Rest easy, Tinie. Besides all living creatures must eat. It is their right. Only silver, remember, not lead, can harm the deer. A miser will keep his silver and let his garden go!" She caught little Tinie by both hands and skipped to and fro across the floor, saying over and over, "Only silver can harm the deer." The wind caught up her words and carried them through the trees, across the ridge into Laurel Hollow. While Audrey and Tinie skipped and frolicked and chanted, "Only silver can harm the deer," Amos Tingley, the miser, over in Laurel Hollow was busy at work. He took a silver coin from the leather poke in his pocket and hammered it flat on the anvil in his barn. Thin as paper he hammered it until he could roll it easily between thumb and finger. Then around and around he rolled it between his palms until there was a ball as round and as firm as ever was made with a mold. Amos put it in his rifle. The next morning when he went out to work in his garden there was scarcely a head of cabbage left. The bunch beans he had been saving back and the cut-short beans had been plucked and the row of sweet corn which he had planted so carefully along the fence-row had been stripped to the last roasting ear. He stooped down to look at the earth. "Footprints of the deer and the fawn, without a doubt. But she must have worn an apron or carried a basket to take away so much." Amos shook his head in perplexity. Then he hurried back to the house to get his gun. "Right here do I wait." He braced himself in the doorway, back to the jam, knees jackknifed, gun cocked. "Here do I wait until I catch sight of that doe and her fawn."