It was generally recognized that the Republicans would carry the state that year. The war was still so near that it would have a determining influence on thousands of voters. The chief local interest centred in the race for the nomination of the dominant party for secretary of state. This was due to several factors. Chief of these was the fight between two candidates of outstanding personality, a fight which rapidly developed into a bitter one. Scot McClintock was still the most picturesque figure in Nevada, though he had left behind him his wild escapades and his gay irresponsibility. The mining camps were yet full of the rumour of his adventures. In any assembly his good looks, charm, and qualities of leadership made him a marked figure. His audacity and courage fitted the time and the place. Men tremendously admired him because they saw in him what they would like to be themselves. The character of Ralph Dodson made no appeal to men’s affections. He was too cold and calculating, his ambition too ruthless. But they recognized his strength. He would travel a long way in the world. The big mining interests supported Dodson. Scot was too much a tribune of the people to suit them. At any time he might embarrass the mine owners by some quixotic gesture inspired by his sense of justice. Scot went out into the camps and the agricultural valleys to make a personal campaign. If he had been dealing with the voters individually he could have made a runaway race of it. But delegates to conventions, then as now, were under the influence of leaders, who in turn took orders from the men who financed the campaign. He was under a tremendous handicap because he had only an individual following to oppose a party machine. Yet he made headway, and so fast that his opponent became alarmed. Dodson came out in the _Enterprise_ with a savage attack on his rival in which he accused him of being an ex-gambler and a bawdy-house brawler. Scot kept his temper and made no counter charges. From the stump he replied that at least he had always been a square gambler. His fighting record, he said carelessly, must take care of itself. Vicky met Ralph Dodson on the Avenue at Piodie while the campaign was at its height. She fired point blank a charge at him. “I read what you said in the _Enterprise_ about Scot.” He laughed a little, but his eyes watched her warily. “You’d think once in a while some newspaper reporter would get a story right,” he said easily. “Oh! Wasn’t it true that you said it?” Her level gaze met his steadily. “I was annoyed, and I said something. Don’t remember just what. Certainly I didn’t intend to insult any of your family.” “Then you’ll deny it in the paper?” “Is it quite worth-while? Everybody knows what newspapers are—how they’re keen to make everything one says sensational.” “If you don’t deny it people will think you said it.”