"That's because it's so valuable," admonished the guardian of the box. "Don't drop it, on your life; it's a prehistoric horse."
"Well, if it is, give me a historic one. He must be solid stone."
"No, only solid bone, like your head. Easy there!"
Stumbling and grunting the men carried the box as gingerly as they could around to the back of the Museum.
The Codfish left his precious possession, and hunted around in the gloomy depths of the basement of the Museum among the giant bones of long extinct mammals which lined the corridors.
"They must all be ossified here," he muttered to himself, but as he was about to give up the search for something living in that forbidding cavern, he came upon an apron-clad man who looked him over curiously.
"Well," said he of the apron.
"I'm looking for the bone man," said the Codfish somewhat abashed.
"You're in the wrong museum, you want the dime kind."
"No, I don't. I want the bone professor."