passing near the hospital, saw a weak
convalescent faint and fall. He rushed to the Surgeon's tent, and that
officer being busy, handed him a small bottle with a metal top, and
filled with strong ammonia, telling him to unscrew the top and hold the
bottle under the man's nose. He did so, with the effect of reviving
him. Si thrust the bottle into his pocket, to help the man back to
the hospital, and forgot all about it, until one after another of his
present patients overdid himself, had a relapse, and fainted away. Si
happened to feel his bottle, drew it out, unscrewed the top, thrust it
under their noses, and revived them.

Gabs's eyes opened wider at each performance. He had never seen a bottle
with a metal top, or one that unscrewed, or anything that seemed to
effect such wonderful changes by merely pointing it at a man. His
mountaineer intellect, prone to "spells" and "charms," saw in it at once
an instrument of morta: witchcraft. With a paling face, he began edging
toward his gun. Busy as Si had been, he had kept constantly in mind the
possibility of Gabe's attempting some mischief, and did not let himself
lose sight of the rebel's gun. He quickly rose, and with a few strides,
placed himself between Gabe and his gun.

[Illustration: MR. YANK, DON'T CONJURE ME. 135]

"Where are you goin'?" he said sternly.

"I'm a-gwine away," replied the man, in terror-stricken accents. "I'm
a-gwine away mouty quick. I don't want to stay here no longer."

"Indeed you're not goin' away. You'll stay right with us, and help us
take care o' your comrades."

"I'm a-gwine away, I tell y'," shrieked Gabe. "I'm gwine right away.
I'm skeered o' yo'uns. Yo'uns is no doctor, nor no sojer. Yo'uns is a
conjure-man, and a Yankee conjure-man, too--wust kind. Yo'uns 've bin
puttin' spells on them men, and yo'uns'll put a spell on me. I've felt
hit from the fust. I'm a-gwine away. Le'me go, quick."

Si caught the man roughly by the shoulder with his left hand, and raised
his right threateningly. It still had the bottle in it. "You're not
goin' a step, except with us," he said. "Go back there, and 'tend to
your business as I told you, or I'll break you in two."

The sight of the dreadful bottle pointed at him completely unnerved the
rebel. He fell on his knees.

"O, Mister Yank--Mister Conjure-man! don't put no spell on me. Pray to
God, don't! I had one on me wunst, when I was little, and liked to've
died from hit. I haint no real rebel. I