Dolphin Island

“Give her a call,” said the Professor. The Dolphin “COME HERE!” signal went out through the water; even if the phrase was not the same in Snowy’s own language, it was one of those that she understood. She began to swim toward the Flying Fish and kept up with the boat as it drew away from the island, heading out for the deeper water beyond the reef.

“I want plenty of room to maneuver,” said Professor Kazan. “And I’m sure Einar, Peggy, and Co., would prefer it that way—just in case they have to run.”

“If they come. Perhaps they’ll have more sense,” Dr. Keith answered doubtfully.

“Well, we’ll know in a few minutes. The broadcast has been going out all morning, so every dolphin for miles around must have heard it.”

“Look!” said Keith suddenly, pointing to the west Half a mile away, a small school of dolphins was swimming parallel to the ship’s course. “There are your volunteers, and it doesn’t look as if they’re in a hurry to come closer.”

“This is where the fun begins,” muttered the Professor. “Let’s join Saha up on the bridge.”

The radio equipment that sent out the signals to the box on Snowy’s head, and received her brain impulses in return, had been set up near the wheel. This made the Flying Fish’s little bridge very crowded, but direct contact between skipper Stephen Nauru and Dr. Saha was essential. Both men knew exactly what to do, and Professor Kazan had no intention of interfering, except in case of emergency.

“Snowy’s spotted them,” whispered Keith.

There was no doubt of that. Gone now was the uncertainty she had shown when first released; she began to move like a speedboat, leaving a foaming wake behind her as she headed straight for the dolphins.

Understandably, they scattered. With a guilty twinge, the Professor wondered just what they were thinking about him at this moment, that is, if they were thinking of anything except Snowy.

She was only thirty feet from one sleek, plump dolphin when she shot into the air, landed with a crash in the water, and lay there motionless, shaking her head in an almost human manner.

“Two volts, central punishment area,” said Dr. Saha, taking his finger off the button. “Wonder if she’ll try it again?”

The dolphins, doubtless surprised and impressed by the demonstration, had reformed a few hundred yards away. They, too, were motionless in the water, with their heads all turned watchfully toward their ancient enemy.

Snowy was getting over her shock and beginning to move once more. This time she swam quite slowly and did not head toward the dolphins at all. It was some time before the watchers understood her tactics.

She was swimming in a wide circle, with the still motionless dolphins at its center. One had to look closely to see that the circle was slowly contracting.

“Thinks she can fool us, does she?” said Professor Kazan admiringly. “I expect she’ll get as close as she dares, pretending she’s not interested, and then make a dash for it.”

This was exactly what she did do. The fact that the dolphins stood their ground for so long was an impressive proof of their confidence in their human friends, and yet another demonstration of the amazing speed at which they learned. It was seldom necessary to tell a dolphin anything twice.

The tension grew as Snowy spiraled inward, like an old-time phonograph pickup tracking in toward the spindle. She was only forty feet from the nearest, and bravest, dolphin when she made her bid.

A killer whale can accelerate at an unbelievable speed. But Dr. Saha was ready, his finger only a fraction of an inch from the button. Snowy didn’t have a chance.

She was an intelligent animal—not quite as intelligent as her would-be victims, but almost in the same class. She knew that she was beaten. When she had recovered from the second shock, she turned her back on the dolphins and started to swim directly away from them. As she did so, Dr. Saha’s finger darted toward his panel once more.

“Hey, what are you up to?” asked the Flying Fish’s skipper, who had been watching all this with disapproval. Like his nephew Mick, he did not care to see Snowy pushed around. “Isn’t she doing what you want?”

“I’m not punishing her—I’m rewarding her,” explained Dr. Saha. “As long as I keep this button down, she’s having a perfectly wonderful time, because I’m putting a few volts into the pleasure centers of her brain.”

“I think that’s enough for one day,” Professor Kazan said. “Send her back to the pool—she’s earned her lunch.”

“The same thing tomorrow, Professor?” asked the skipper as the Flying Fish headed for home.

“Yes, Steve—the same every day. But I’ll be surprised if we have to keep it up for more than a week.”