"Respected Chief Priest Miki, South Port now has more than six hundred tribespeople, most of them converted Coos People. The Coos People have gentle temperaments and are very good fishermen. After receiving instruction, they're decent farmers too. They're patient and can do careful, detailed work..."
"Oh! As for the fields, we've opened up more than a thousand mu of farmland. The crops are quite mixed—corn and beans, as well as pumpkins and potatoes. As for the harvest, roughly three or four mu can support one able-bodied mouth? Half the camp's food comes from farming, and half from fishing and gathering along the shore. There's hunting too, but that can't really be counted on; sometimes there's something, sometimes there isn't..."
"Main God as witness! This place is actually warmer than we first estimated, especially since the winters aren't that cold. Maybe because there are mountains all around, and only the west side faces the sea?... You're right, there are many mountains around us, and there aren't any large tribes. Only several dozen li to the southeast, occupying the river valley, is the River Valley Tribe, a large Coos People tribe of a thousand or so. But they're friendly and kind too..."
The bay was broad, and three long rivers came from the south, the north, and the east, merging here into the sea. The rushing rivers carried silt from upstream, slowing and settling here to form sandbars at the estuary. And near the rivers, many irrigated fields had been opened up.
Late August was the busy farming season, and the Coos People of the camp went barefoot, bustling through the fields of corn and potatoes. Great swaths of corn had grown taller than a person and had already begun to tassel. The potatoes, like the pumpkins, had already yielded one harvest.