“My heirs! Say, all that I’ll ever git for my head wouldn’t be a smell amongst my heirs. A round-up of my heirs would take in the hull of North Dakoty. Not aimin’ to brag, I got mavericks runnin’ on that range what must be twelve-year-old.”
McArthur looked the disgust he felt at Tubbs’s ribald humor.
“Your jests are exceedingly distasteful to me, Tubbs.”
“That ain’t no jest. Onct I——”
“Let’s get down to business,” interrupted Ralston. “What do you consider your skull worth?”
“It’s wuth considerable to me. I don’t know as I’m so turrible anxious to sell. I can eat with it, and it gits me around.” Tubbs’s tone took on the assumed indifference of an astute horse trader. “I’ve always held my head high, as you might say, and it looks to me like it ought to bring a hunderd dollars in the open market. No, I couldn’t think of lettin’ it go for less than a hundred—cash.”
McArthur considered.
“If you will agree to my conditions, I will give you my check for one hundred dollars,” he said at last.
“That sounds reasonable,” Tubbs assented.
“I should want you to carry constantly upon your person my name, address, and written instructions as to the care of and disposal of your skull, in the event of your demise. I shall also insist that you do not voluntarily place your head where your skull may be injured; because, as you can readily see, if it were badly crushed, it would be worthless for my purpose, or that of the scientific body to whom I intend to bequeath my interest in it, should I die before yourself.”