“Then why don’t they say treasure found?”
“’Sh, boy!” said Mr. Chatford, good-naturedly, smiling at the youngster’s impatience of long-winded sentences and large words. “What’s the law of—treasure-trove, I believe you call it, Mr. Dinks?”
“I don’t think there’s any law on the subject,” replied the student of Blackstone, picking his teeth with a straw.
“No law! then how can such a case be decided?”
“Custom, which makes a sort of unwritten law, would here come in.”
“Well, what’s the custom?”
Thereupon Mr. Byron Dinks became prolix again, speaking of English custom, which, like English law, creates precedents for our own country. The meaning of his discourse, stripped of its technical phrases and tedious repetitions, seemed to be, that formerly, treasure-trove went to the crown; that in more modern times it was divided—in a case like this—between the finder and the man on whose premises it was found; but that he didn’t think any precedent had been established in America.
“We’re about as wise now as we were before,” remarked Phin’s elder brother Moses, standing in the kitchen door.
Mr. Chatford gave him a wink to remain silent, and said, “How are we to understand you, Mr. Dinks? To use your own expression, A finds money on B’s premises; now what would be your advice to B?”
“Supposing B is my client? I should advise him to get possession of the money, if he could. Possession is nine points of the law.”