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.