"Here's what we're going to do, Don," Lonigan went on. "You're going to go down to the airport, where we've got a special helicopter waiting. Our copter will take you to the island of Santa Antonia, two hundred miles off the coast. It's a lovely island, Don ... you'll really like it. There's a comfortable little house there, and we've had the place all stocked up for you. There's even a nice big deep-freeze from the Handi-Freezo people, filled right up to the top." Lonigan paused, to get the effect. "Of course," he continued, "There isn't anyone else on the island. Nobody at all! And no radio, no newspapers, no way at all to hear from the outside world. Yes sir, Don, you'll be a real Robinson Crusoe. But just think, for two months, you'll get paid your regular salary; we're taking care of that. You can read, fish, think, maybe even write a book if you feel like it. Ever think about writing a book, Don?" Gerson opened his mouth, but he was apparently too surprised to answer for a moment. Then he shook his head. "No-o, but maybe, with all that time...." "Well, Don, you can certainly read, if you feel like it," Lonigan went on. "Because we've put plenty of good, solid books on the island for you. There's fiction, of course, and textbooks on history, and encyclopedias.... Now, what do you think you could do with all that information in those books?" "Well...." "I'll tell you what you'd better do, Don." Lonigan's eyes flicked to the studio clock, and his voice speeded up imperceptibly. "Read up, Don boy. Because we're going to bring you into this studio two months from now, when our program resumes in the fall season. And we're going to ask you a dozen questions about things that have been happening in the meantime--people, places, and current events. If you can't answer at least six of those questions right, we'll be awfully _sorry_!" The audience roared again. "But if you _can_ answer them, just six out of the dozen, you'll _Win-a-Mint_!" Again the theme music. "Now, Don, how about it? Think you can do it?" "I'll try, sir." Gerson looked a little pale, but resolute. "All right, folks, give our new Robinson Crusoe a big hand, and be sure you're watching when we bring him back to try to _Win-a-Mint_!" And the clock blinked a red light. Right on the button, Lonigan thought. * * * * * The helicopter droned out over the open sea in the afternoon sun. It was much noisier than the airliner that had been Gerson's only other trip into the upper air, he thought, looking ahead. The island was not yet visible. "Think you'll win the hundred thousand?" the pilot asked, speaking loudly. He was a young man of Gerson's own age, with a cheerful round face. "What? Oh ... I certainly hope so." Gerson peered out over the smooth water. "How long a trip is it?"