At that moment he also for a moment saw a twinkle on the embankment.
'That is what you call Jack o' Lanterns,' said he. 'It is some ganger going home. Shall I attend you?'
'I desire to be alone.'
Then Drownlands went within, and Zita walked on till she reached the highway that ran below the embankment. It was so dark there that she mounted the steep slope, so as to have the advantage of what little light still hung in the sky and was reflected by the frozen surface of the river.
As she ascended, an uneasy sensation came over her—a feeling that she was in the presence of human beings whom she neither saw nor heard. She stood still, listening. Then, stepping forward, she was again conscious that she was close upon some invisible person. Feeling alarmed, Zita was about to retrace her steps, when a light was flashed in her eyes and a hand grasped her shoulder. Thereupon a voice said in a low tone, 'It is that wench of Drownlands'.' Then she was aware that several men surrounded her. They had been crouching on the ground for concealment, at the sound of her approaching foot. Now they rose and pressed about her. She could distinguish that these were all men, and that they had black kerchiefs over their faces with holes cut in them, through which their eyes peered. One alone was not so disguised, and he it was who spoke to her.
'Unhappy girl! You do not return. Go your ways along the bank, and no harm will be done to you. We have no quarrel with you, but we have with your master. This night we strike off a score, pay a debt.'
The voice was that of Ephraim Beamish.
'Throw her in. Send her under the ice. She's a bad lot,' said one of the men.
'Make an end of all that belongs to Tiger Ki,' said another.
'We do not fight with women,' said Beamish. 'She shall go, but not return to Prickwillow.'