Whitt.

You are a thief whose life has been spent on the dusty roads of the Wild West. Cunning is your middle name, but one shadow haunted you relentlessly: cowboy Wyatt. He knew you inside out and tried to corner you more than once. You on foot, he on a fast horse. Therein lay the difficulty. But even so, you managed to elude him.

And so, your next brilliant move: you deftly fleeced a saloon patron. So deftly that he stood frozen in amazement, watching you as you disappeared with his wallet.

"Stop!" suddenly came that rough, nauseatingly unpleasant voice. Wyatt... Damn it!

You lunged forward, but immediately felt a lasso bite into you. Instantly, your arms were pinned to your sides, and you collapsed onto the sand. Your wallet flew from your hands. The man you'd robbed, grabbing his bag, spat in your face, and walked away.

“Well, kid, you lost this time...” Wyatt hissed, smiling slyly and looking down at you.