"So that's the way it is, is it?" said old Trimmer darkly. "Well, we'll see."
"Sure we'll see," said Pee-wee. "That shows how much you know about geography and international law and all those things. Suppose Cape Cod should break off and float away. Would it belong to New Hampshire any more—I mean Connecticut—I mean Massachusetts? Gee whiz, we're going to stay right here because we're on a public waterway and anyway you don't own the scow that this land is on, do you?"
There was, of course, no answer to this fine analysis of the legal points involved.
"That there scow was under my land," said old Trimmer.
"It was in the river and it wasn't on anybody's land as I understand it," said Townsend in his funny way. "Your land trespassed on the scow——"
"Sure it did!" interrupted Pee-wee.
"It really had no right to do that, Mr. Trimmer, unless you can show that you own the scow. As I understand it this is a kind of a legal sandwich. The land that used to be a part of your field is between the scow and us——"
"Sure it is!" vociferated Pee-wee, caught by the idea of a sandwich so huge and picturesque. "We're kind of like one of the slices of bread and the scow is the other slice. It's thick and dark like rye bread," he added to make the picture more graphic.
"It's a kind of a legal sandwich," said Townsend, sitting back against the tree with his knees drawn up and talking with a calmness and seriousness which aroused the wrath of old Trimmer. "It's a kind of an interesting situation. We have as much right on the scow as the land has, as I see it——"
"Sure, you learn that in the third grade!" shouted Pee-wee. "That's logic."