Amos Tingley, a bachelor, and a miser as well, lived in Laurel Hollow.
Nearby was a salt lick for deer. Often he saw them come there a few at a
time, lick the salt, and scamper away. There were two he noticed in
particular, a mother and its fawn. They had come nearer than the salt
lick--into his garden--more than once and trampled what they did not
like, or nibbled to the very ground things that suited their taste,
vegetables that Amos had toiled to plant and grow. He didn't want to
harm the animals if it could be helped so Amos thought to make a pet of
the fawn. When a boy he had had a pet fawn, carried it in his arms. He
even brought it into the house and when it grew older the little
creature followed at his heels like a dog. He reached a friendly hand
toward this fawn in his garden but it kicked up its heels and fairly
flew down the garden path. However, the mother, watching her chance when
Amos had returned to the house, led her fawn into the garden again and
together they ate their fill of the choicest green things.
It annoyed Amos Tingley no little. He determined to put a stop to it.
One evening he greased his old squirrel rifle. He took lead balls out of
the leather pouch that hung on the wall, rolled them around in the palm
of his hand, and wondered when his chance would come to use them. As he
sat turning the thoughts over in his mind pretty Audrey Billberry and
her little girl, Tinie, came along the road. Audrey was a widow. Had
been since Tinie was six months old. Some wondered how she got along.
But Audrey Billberry was never one to complain and if neighbors went
there she always urged them to stay and eat. If it was winter, there was
plenty of rabbit stew and turnips and potatoes, or squirrel and quail.
Audrey loved wild meat. "It's cleaner," she'd say, "and sweeter. Sweet
meats make pretty looks." Audrey smiled and showed her dimples and
little Tinie patted her mother's hand and looked up admiringly into her
face. Then off the two would skip through the woods to gather greens or
berries, chestnuts or wild turkey eggs, whatever the season might bring.
Sometimes they went hand in hand, Audrey and the child, past Amos
Tingley's place.
"Good day, to you," pretty Audrey Billberry would call out and Tinie
would say the same. "How goes it with you today, good neighbor?"
"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."
It wasn't long till the two appeared on a nearby ridge, pranking to and
fro. Into the forest they scampered, then out again, frisking up their
hind feet, then standing still as rocks and looking down at Amos Tingley
in his doorway.
Then Amos lifted his gun, pulled the trigger.
The fawn darted away but the deer fell bleeding with a bullet in the
leg.
"Let her bleed! Bleed till there's not a drop of blood left in her veins
and my silver coin is washed back to my own hands!" That was the wish of
Amos Tingley, the miser. He went back into the house and put his gun in
the corner.
When darkness came little Tinie Billberry stood sobbing at Amos
Tingley's door. "Please to come," she pleaded. "My mother says she'll
die if you don't. She wants to make amends!"
"Amends?" gasped Amos Tingley. "Amends for what?"
But Tinie had dashed away in the darkness.
When Amos reached pretty Audrey Billberry's door, he found her pale in
the candlelight, her ankle shattered and bleeding. The foot rested in a
basin.
"See what you've done, Amos Tingley." The pretty widow lifted
tear-dimmed eyes, while Tinie huddled shyly behind her. "A pitcher of
water, quick, Tinie, to wash away the blood!"
As the child poured the water over the bleeding foot, Amos heard
something fall into the basin. He caught the flash of silver. Amos stood
speechless.
In the basin lay the silver ball the miser had made from a coin.
"Never tell!" cried pretty Audrey Billberry, her dark eyes starting from
the bloodless face. "Never tell and I promise, I promise and so does
Tinie--see we promise together."
The child had put down the pitcher and came shyly to rest her head upon
her mother's shoulder, her small hand in Audrey's.
"We promise," they spoke together, "never, never again to bother your
garden!"
They kept their word all three, Amos Tingley and pretty Audrey Billberry
and little Tinie. But somebody told, for the tale still lives in Laurel
Hollow of the miser and the deer woman and the little fawn.