As the waters of the lagoon rippled in the regal glow of the sunset, four outrigger canoes glided silently into view. On the shore stood the native scout, waving them in.

When the invaders hopped into the shallows and pulled their canoes ashore, the scout motioned them to where his own craft lay hidden in the dense undergrowth. One of the warriors approached him, the dying light gleaming on the wickedly sharp tip of his spear. "Good hunting here?" he asked in his own tongue.

"Seven long pig," said the scout. "See one machete. No more weapons. We attack tonight?"

"Need rest from long journey," said the other. "We make camp. Attack just after dawn." He laughed evilly. "Let long pig eat breakfast first! Make him fatter for us!"

A blue moon rose in the sunset's place, painting the island in sapphire light and deep shadow. After the castaways had retired for bed Russell sat up by the campfire in the Professor's spare shirt, scrubbing his berry-stained shirt in a soap-filled bucket. After a moment Bob came staggering out of the crew's hut, dragging a tall wooden drum under his arm. He slumped down by the fire until the drum lay flat, the head still under his arm. "Oh, God, Russ, do I need a smoke."

"Good luck finding a cigar store around here," said Russell wearily. "And anyhow, you'd be out of character."

Bob frowned and glanced with a puzzled look at the ends of his fingers.

"What's the matter?"

"I was supposed to tell you and Dawn something about that." He yawned hugely. "Now I can't remember what it was."

"Tell Dawn what?"

The two actors jumped, and then sighed in relief. "Don't scare us like that, Dawn. You could have been anybody!"

She put her hands on her hips. "Oh, sure, Russ. I could have been the Skipper! We're practically twins."

Russell sighed as he held the streaming shirt up out of the water. "I didn't even see you. I was looking at this! I'll never get it clean!"

"Well, don't look at me," said Dawn. "I'm not using Gilligan's bleach. I don't want my hair to fall out."

"Ack!" Russell dropped the shirt as though it were covered with acid. "Very funny!"

Bob snorted, but was too tired to laugh for long. He yawned heavily. "Say, Dawn, that was a great supper."

Dawn sat down cross-legged between the two men and shook her head. "Well, only you two know it. Everybody else was laughing too hard to eat! What in the world have the two of you been doing all day? Trying to out-Gilligan Gilligan?"

"No more than you have, Little Miss Muffet." Bob glanced at the sand beside Dawn. "Oooo. My goodness. Is that a spider?"

The girl raised a challenging eyebrow and looked behind Bob. "Oooo. My goodness. Is that a gorilla?"

"Touché ." Bob thrummed a light fanfare on his drum, and then leaned back, doffing his sailor cap. "Of course, the Professor here absolutely stole the show. Blowing up the laboratory! Sheesh! Way to go, Russ. What'll you do for an encore?"

Russell groaned and pointed an accusing finger. "It's all your fault, Mr. First Mate. You started it."

"Did not."

"Did too. You're the one who said I could duplicate that stupid potion with the berries."

"How was I to know you'd throw in something explosive? Don't you read labels?"

"The Professor hardly labels anything! I guess he just remembers where everything is!"

Bob shook his head, his laughter bubbling up again. "But Ginger said the papaya nut oil was labeled. Why'd you want to put it in your hair?"

"And what about you?" Russell retorted. "Whatever gave you the idea to play tag with a gorilla?"

"That was the Skipper's idea, not mine!"

"Thank God Sherwood put the kibosh on that idea to give Gilligan a pet dinosaur," said Dawn. "You could have been chased around by a T-Rex!"

Bob's eyes went as wide as soup-plates. "Yeah…I could have!" After a moment, he looked at Dawn. "Say, speaking of chasing, what was the idea of the big smooch you gave me in front of everybody after dinner? Not that I'm complaining, but what was it for?"

"Yeah!" said Russell. "And how come I didn't get one?"

Dawn smiled her impish smile. "Just to please Mrs. Howell. Ginger too."

"It sure pleased Bob," said Bob. "But I don't know how pleased Mary Ann is going to be when she gets back, though. Or Gilligan, or the Professor!"

"Oh! I never thought of that!" The actress flipped her hair back and buried her forehead in her hands. "Well, I haven't blown berry juice all over myself or put sneezing oil in my hair or gotten chased around by a big ape, but I have had myself a day. What with an island filled with creepy crawlies, and Ginger and the Howells thinking I've got a thing for either you or the Professor…or both of you!"

Bob grinned. "A ménage a trois! Say, Russ, what do you think? The CBS censors wouldn't mind."

"Of course not! Should be great for the ratings. Let's tell Sherwood when we get home!"

"Oh, you just try it, boys. I'll tell your wives it was your idea." Dawn suddenly grew serious. "Guys, this is the first chance we've had to talk since we got here. What are we going to do? How are we going to get home?"

"I don't know, Dawn," said Russell, yawning again. "I don't even know how to get this shirt clean. And at this point, I'm too tired to care."

"And I need something to relax me," said Bob, thrumming softly on the drum.

"Be careful, Bob! What if somebody hears you?"

"What if somebody does?" smiled Bob. "Gilligan can play the drums. He's a real hep cat."

"Oh yeah," said Dawn. "That's right. I forgot."

"One of the few things Gilligan and Maynard G. Krebs had in common," quipped Russell.

Bob closed his eyes, stretching like a cat and continuing the thrub-thrub of his fingers. "That and stunning good looks. And a severe allergy to wooork!"

They listened to the gentle rhythm of the drum for a few moments, each lost in their own thoughts. At last Bob's thrumming softened and his eyes opened. "But seriously, guys…how long can we keep on fooling these people? How long can I go on convincing the Skipper I'm really Gilligan? He wasn't laughing as much as the others at dinner. He kept looking at me real funny. I'm kinda worried."

"You've got to keep trying, Bobby," said Russell. "We've all got to keep trying. God knows it isn't easy, but we've got no choice."

"Then when's the next time we'll be able to meet and make our plans?" asked Dawn.

"I don't know, sweetie," said Bob. "We'll have to take whatever chance we can get. I have the feeling we're running out of time."

"Well…" Russell stood up and stretched. "I'll try another crack at the laundry biz in the morning. In the meantime, goodnight folks. Thank goodness I haven't got a roommate to act in front of."

"Goodnight, Russ." Dawn stood to go. "You staying up, Bobby?"

"No. I'll leave the drum here, though - one less thing to trip over in the hut in the night. Goodnight, Dawn."

The three of them heaped dirt on the fire until it went out, then turned and trudged wearily to their huts.