to be." And Wishful sighed and began sweeping again.

"What sort of traveling companion would he make?"

Wishful stopped sweeping. His melancholy gaze was fixed on a defunct
cigar. "Never heard either of his hosses object to his company," he
replied.

Bartley grinned and glanced up and down the register. Wishful dug into a
corner with his broom. Something shot rattling across the floor. Wishful
laid down the broom and upon hands and knees began a search. Presently
he rose. A slow smile illumined his face. He had found a pair of dice in
the litter on the floor. He made a throw, shook his head, and picked up
the dice. His sweeping became more sprightly. Amused by the
preoccupation of the lank and cautiously humorous Wishful, Bartley
touched the bell on the desk. Wishful promptly stood his broom against
the wall, rolled down his sleeves, and stepped behind the counter.

"I think I'll pay my bill," said Bartley.

Wishful promptly named the amount. Bartley proffered a ten-dollar bill.

Wishful searched in the till for change. He shook his head. "You got two
dollars comin'," he stated.

"I'll shake you for that two dollars," said Bartley.

Wishful's tired eyes lighted up. "You said somethin'." And he produced
the dice.