Three days later, when clouds again moved in on the coastline, Wiley Cordes took to the air with another load of dry ice pellets. And once again he did his dirty work undetected and with disastrous results for Burden Bay. On his third trip, because of a low current of warm air of whose existence he was not informed, Wiley came in with a rain storm that washed away most of the snow. But his fourth, fifth and sixth one-plane raids more than made up for this lapse. * * * * * Wiley Cordes and Wheedonville by the Sea were riding high. Hotels were packed and concessions were booming. The public relations expert found his salary raised an added hundred dollars a week. There was laughter at a Chamber meeting over a Burden Bay picture release showing a couple of pretty girls in ski clothes backed by a slide made of the defunct oil gushers. "I'll get the chorus of Mike Todd's new musical down here next weekend and put them on water skis in bathing suits," promised the laughing Wiley Cordes. Of course he knew it could not last forever. But he saw no reason for the run of good fortune to come to an early end. He had planned and executed his scheme too well. So he was not pleased to discover another plane above the clouds on his next trip over Burden Bay. Still, it was something that had to happen. He merely cruised on innocently and was relieved when the other ship--a big four-motored flying boxcar--disappeared through the clouds. Then he swung back and did his stuff. [Illustration: There was another plane above the clouds over Burden Bay.] He saw the plane on three more occasions as he placed snowstorms accurately over hapless Burden Bay and its presence began to worry him. But the pilot gave no indication that he knew what Wiley was up to and the discreet young public relations counsellor decided not to mention it to the men who were backing his scheme. As a result of this step and of his own pre-occupation with promoting the balmy atmosphere of Wheedonville by the Sea, he was really caught off-guard when disaster finally struck. As fall merged into winter the reservations totals for Wheedonville hotels fell off far more sharply than it should have--especially with Burden Bay out of the picture. It was the President of the Chamber of Commerce who broke the news to Wiley Cordes, after summoning him to his office in early December. There he simply tossed a telegram at his high powered promoter. No words were needed to explain his mood--it was evident enough from the jut of his beetling gray brows and the bayonet-angle of his Corona Corona. "Read this," he said laconically. "Read it and pack." Startled, Wiley complied, felt himself go gray and sick and shaky as he scanned the contents of the wire. It read: