lict between man and Nature to the
utmost of possibility, for in his story there is much emphasis on
character and the struggle of man with man. Whether the story gains or
loses in total effect thereby is immaterial; it will prove an
interesting experience for the writer to recast the tale so as to bring
out more exclusively the theme of conflict with Nature. In connection
with the general discussion as to plot, I will state that if Harte had
entirely excised the theft of the party's horses by the treacherous
member, and had not brought out the contrast between the gambler, the
prostitutes, and the innocents, the story still would have been
adequately plotted. The bare situation of men and women snowbound in a
mountain cabin is a plot germ, for it suggests the problem whether they
will survive or perish.

The plot which presents conflict between man and man is distinctly
social in nature. The possibilities for the writer of fiction in the
general scramble for the almighty dollar, the rivalry of love, the
desire for revenge, and a thousand other passions and ambitions that
bring man into conflict with his fellows, are practically infinite.
Three minutes spent in running over this field for plots will
demonstrate the folly of bewailing the lack of something fresh to write
about. Perhaps some ingenious mathematician, given the data that there
are a hundred million men and women in the United States, and that each
one has some small number of desires and passions active or dormant,
will calculate the potential conflicts resulting. Each conflict is the
seed of a plot, and each plot may be written a hundred times, each story
being made different from the last by varying the manner of treatment.
There is not too little to write about; there is so very much that keen
selection is essential.

Any magazine offers examples of the exploitation, by short story
writers, of the conflict between man and man, while to portray the
conflict is peculiarly the field of the novel, with its social emphasis.
Balzac and Thackeray are supreme masters in presenting a slice of the
social spectacle; "Vanity Fair" and "Cousin Pons" depict struggle
between their people, and but little else. At the top of the social
ladder the struggle is carried on by intrigue and sugared words, at the
bottom with the knife and naked fist, but the struggle is the same in
essence, and of enthralling interest to a reader. All the world loves a
winner, and all the wor