Bill kept staring, his thoughts racing. There were rumors of an ejection chamber for Muttnik. But they had been denied by the Russians. But suppose the Russians _had_ planned an ejection chamber for the dog Laika when they launched the satellite and had only denied it after they thought it had failed? But if it _had_ worked, why had it taken so long to find its way to earth? The satellite itself was supposed to have disintegrated months ago. "Damn," thought Bill. "I wish I were a scientist right now instead of a know-nothing artist!" He touched the dog with his toe. It was perfectly preserved, as though it had died just a few hours before. It was rigid, but it had not started to decompose. "Carol, are we crazy? Is this some dream, or do you believe we are looking at the ejection chamber of the Russian satellite?" he asked, doubting even what he was saying. "I don't know." Carol was wide-eyed. "But what shall we do now? We'd better contact the authorities immediately!" Bill tried to keep reason from overcoming his disbelief of their discovery. "But how, Carol? Our radio transmitter isn't working. It won't till morning. And there's certainly no other way to communicate with anyone. We can't even take the boat anywhere with the speed we're making. We'll have to wait till morning." "What shall we do with the dog?" asked Carol. "Do you think we ought to bury it?" "Lord no, Carol. The body of the dog will be extremely valuable to science. We've got to get someone here as quickly as possible." Bill was trying to steady his nerves. "Let's go back and try to raise someone on the radio. Let's try again, it may work," called Carol, running in the direction of the boat. Bill followed her. They stumbled on the craggy rocks and exposed sea grape roots, but together in the darkness they struck out for the boat. Bill was first aboard and went directly to the ship-to-shore radio. "Try the Nassau marine operator first," Carol panted as she clambered aboard. "He's a lot closer to us than Miami." As the receiver warmed up, static filled the cabin. Bill depressed the transmitting button. "This is the Yacht _Seven Seas_ calling the Nassau Marine operator," he called into the phone. Only static answered. "Bill!" Carol said in sudden inspiration. "Give a May Day. Try every channel with a May Day. If anyone picks up a May Day call you'll get emergency action." "May Day, May Day! This is the Yacht _Seven Seas_. Come in anyone!" Bill called urgently into the mouthpiece. He switched to the Coast Guard channel, then to the Miami Marine operators channel. Only static filled the cabin. No welcome voice acknowledged their distress call. Bill flipped the switch desperately to the two ship-to-ship channels. "May Day! Come in any boat!" Still static. Nothing but static. * * * * *