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Show page 187 DIVISION POINT Sometimes our town breeds some good ones, Snell Jamison for instance. Snell Jamison wore light green eyeshades and stiff collars. He worked for many years in one of our banks, accumulated some capital, then took off for an Indian community in the Florida panhandle, where he still wears light green eye-shades over his eyes, and shirts with those stiff detachable collars. Our editor, Mulberry Dillard, recently visited the area that Snell is now set up in and brought back this story about a happening there and Snell's involvement: A sultriness hung over the toxvn of Division Point, a small commercial and cattle-shipping center on the edge of Indian country some twenty miles west of the main road to Panama City. Black bullhead clouds hung in the southern sky. Along the smelly river north of town carp crowded into deeper water and bumped each other for breathing space. The area is not too prosperous, and is subject to frequent storms off the gulf, is in many ways primitive, as only rural Florida can be primitive. The boy left his gray pony at Muleapple's livery and came down the dusty street looking for Sheriff J. B. Rhine. The boy passed Harper's realty office. Abreast of Snell Jamison's bank he stopped and surveyed the street. A dingy station and a large "nnfiag! tuw.or sfcagid n^r the rail tracks to his left. On a |
