Sly awoke the next night uncomfortably. The others were still weary of Wyoming, and Sly wasn't as fond of him as he'd thought. The hammock was so uncomfortable, he'd hardly slept, while in the meantime he was taunted by the soft snores of all those around him, and the sound the cots made when you rolled over. He tried to roll over on the hammock and ungracefully fell off. It was relieving to know he'd even slept as all as he rubbed his eyes tiredly.

Wyoming woke up at about the same time, and pulled on Sly's hammock. That of course unbalanced it. "Sly, are you awake?" He asked as he shook the hammock. After a bit, it spun, and Sly fell out and onto his cot with a soft thud. Sly looked like he wanted to curl up and go to sleep.

"Yes, I'm awake," he replied bitterly. He sighed. He had to do something with this kid, but what? Sly thought, then finally decided on something. "Wyoming, follow me."

He headed into the room where they did their planning and sat down. Wyoming sat on the chair next his. "Okay," Sly started, "What do you know about thieves?"

"Thieves? Thieves are bad people who hurt others for their own selfish needs. If some one dies while their stealing or something, its no big deal, the person was just in the way. They're people who can't succeed in life because their no good at being anything more than a jerk. Is that right? It's what my dad told me."

Sly sighed. "You sound like Carmelita," he muttered, remembering briefly his own father's definition of thief. Honorable, cunning, clever… Sly shook his head. "No, that's not a thief, he clarified, "That's a crook, or a burglar. There's a difference between thief and crook/burglar," Sly said, defending himself.

"Oh," Wyoming said. "Then what's a thief?"

"Thieves are… thieves are people who steal for purposes known only to them. They refrain from hurting others if necessary… They… uh… They are honorable, cunning, and clever, and never steal from other thieves. Cops and ordinary citizens tend to get thieves confused with crooks and burglars… uh…" Sly tried to think.

"Hang on, so is a robber more like a thief, or more like burglars and crooks?" Wyoming asked.

Sly smacked himself on the face. "Crooks…and burglars, I guess. Any way, listen, now that you've heard my definition, the right definition, what do you say?"

"I say they are still selfish and mean, and they still rely on others."

"Okay, that's just splendid," Sly lied sarcastically, "Listen Wyoming, I'm a thief."

Wyoming stared at him with large bewildered eyes. "Huh?" he finally uttered.

"I steal from my enemies because they've stolen things from me, and… it's like revenge… any way, I'm gonna give you a choice. Would you rather stay here with me, even though I'm a thief, or leave and go to an orphanage?" Sly asked. Part of him almost wanted the kitten to stay.

"I… I don't know… I don't want to go to an orphanage, so… uh… I guess I'll stay."

"Okay," Sly murmured, "but you can't stay with a band of thieves and expect to sit around doing nothing. How would you like to become my apprentice, Wyoming? My apprentice in thieving. After I train you, you'll be good enough to be a master thief, like myself."

Wyoming's eyes widened. "Your apprentice? So I'd get to hang out with you? That'd be cool!"

"Okay," Sly said, "Then it's off to the hazard room we go."