"Granted, Cordes," said the President, speaking without arising. "But we cannot continue indefinitely against such buffets of fortune--not and pay twenty-five thousand dollars a year for protection against ill luck--without receiving an iota of protection." "Your sentiments touch me deeply," said Cordes. "And I should not have been worthy of your more than generous salary if I had not studied the problem thoroughly and come to this meeting with a plan which should speedily put an end to the difficulties under which all of us have been laboring." Cordes paused to let this sink in. He knew, as do all talented pitch men, when he had his audience hooked. The expression in the eight pairs of eyes upon him was still uniform--but it flashed a uniformity of hope. "Gentlemen," he went on, "the summer season draws rapidly to its close. It has not been successful. But Wheedonville by the Sea and Burden Bay have both built their reputations as resort cities, much like that of Atlantic City, upon the warmth of climate and water in fall and spring. I propose to make Wheedonville by the Sea the only mild-weather resort in this entire section of coastline." "And just how do you propose to do this?" asked one of the members, his interest aroused above his incredulity. In simple words Wiley Cordes told them. At first there were a few protests upon humanitarian grounds. But they were not enduring. After all the Chamber of Commerce was a collection of hard-headed businessmen. Furthermore they were hard-pressed businessmen. Their ultimate approval was unanimous, as was their vow to mutual secrecy. There was little else they could do. * * * * * Cold weather was a factor in Cordes' scheme. But cold weather descends in occasional unseasonable snaps upon the balmiest of resort climate. Even in Florida and Texas there has been snow during recent years. For once the luck ran for Cordes and his quasi-desperate employers. Early upon a morning in late September, less than a week after the showdown meeting, a plane took off, not from the Wheedonville Municipal Airport but from a private field that lurked less prosperously and publicly in the resort city's villa-studded suburbs. The plane, a converted Mitchell B-25 AAF bomber, was piloted by Wiley Cordes himself--aviation was among his numerous personal accomplishments. There were bombs in the bomb bay--but bombs of a type not yet seen in war. Millions of pellets of dry ice were so stowed away that they could be sowed high in the atmosphere by continued pressure upon a release trigger in the cockpit. The cloud formations were just right--with heavy layers above the target area and little wind. The temperature, in the high thirties at ground level, was below zero two miles up. After getting a sight through the cloud strata, Wiley Cordes began to sow his snow.