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.' 'What are you about? What harm are you doing?' asked Zita. 'We are serving out chastisement to your master for what he has done to our lads,' answered Pip. 'You will not hurt him?' 'Not in person.' 'What, then, will you do?' 'Go your way. We are letting the water out over his land.' Ephraim conducted Zita a little way along the tow-path on the bank. 'Attend to me,' said he. 'Go anywhere you will except back to Prickwillow. We have our men drawn across the way. You cannot pass, it is in vain for you to attempt it. Keep to the bank, and keep at a distance from us.' 'Where is Mark Runham?' 'I have not seen him.' 'He is not in this affair with you?' 'Mark? of course he is not. He knows nothing of our purpose.' Zita advanced along the path. She was uneasy; desirous, if possible, to warn Drownlands. Presently she heard a rush of water. She turned, and was caught almost immediately by one of the men. 'It is of no use your attempting to go home,' he said. 'It is of no use your thinking of telling Tiger Ki to be on his guard. It is now too late.' The man took her wrist and said, 'Go your way, but take care not to step on the ice—not as you value your life.' 'The ice?—why so?' 'Listen.' A shrill whine—then a crash. The icy surface of the Lark had split, then gone down in fragments under its own weight, as the water that had sustained it was withdrawn. CHAPTER XXXVI A RETURN BLOW