The sun sets in the west, the other side of the lake already lit with scattered lights.
A lone lighthouse stands amid the flickering lights, calling the departing fishing boats back to port.
As soon as Pierre sees the lighthouse, he reacts immediately: "Is that Shovel Port across the lake?!"
He looks around the vast lake surface: "Is this Shovel Lake?!"
"That's correct, that's Shovel Port over there." Winters points with his whip at the lakeshore below the mountain, deliberately testing Pierre, asking with a smile: "So, where are we?"
Pierre cannot answer.
Everyone knows the west bank of Shovel Port is "no-man's land," there is no place name to speak of.
Winters changes his approach: "What do you see?"
"I see nothing, sir." Pierre answers honestly.
"Then let me tell you what I see."
Winters laughs aloud, sending flocks of waterbirds startled into the sky.
"I see docks, warehouses, rows of shops, granite-paved roads, throngs of pedestrians..."
