“Sometimes I go up to Thunder Knob, the big sand dune north of here. The shades of an Indian hunter and a large sand bear have been fighting inside of this dune off and on for many years. When they are quiet too long I go in and stir them up. “I often visit the little chapel on the next hill during winter nights, and sit there until early morning--in fact it is one of my favorite haunts when I am outside of the tower. I also find much diversion in drifting about in the dark through the winter woods and along the lake shore when everything is frozen up. This winter I have spent several nights in the deserted pavilion on the beach, amusing myself with the phonograph records in the corner. Sometime they will learn to can heat and cold as they do sound. The winds down there in the winter are very wheezy and I like it.” [Illustration: THE ROAD THROUGH THE WINTER WOODS] There was a long silence after this. I changed my position on the box against the wall and thought possibly that I must have dozed for a few minutes and missed part of the story, but was not sure of it. I looked up on the stairway, but apparently my ghost was not there. Evidently he had faded with the first gray morning light that was now stealing into the tower, and had taken his long lingering thirst down below to his phantom flagon of musty wine. I waited for some time, but remembering what he had said about a possible sudden disappearance, I concluded that it was useless to remain longer. I arrived at the farm house just in time for breakfast, and, immediately afterward I began this tale of what I had seen and heard in the tower, while the facts were still fresh in my mind. Up to that memorable Christmas eve I was entirely unfamiliar with Hungarian history, and did not know whether anybody by the name of Emric Szapolyia had ever lived or not. Naturally I was very curious on the subject and anxious to convince myself that I had not been dreaming in the tower. I obtained a copy of Godkin’s “History of Hungary and the Magyars,” and succeeded in locating my ghostly friend in a chapter devoted to the career of King Mathias Corvinus, who reigned between 1457 and 1480. The account given of him coincided with what he had told me as far as it went. While he was referred to as a general and duke, it did not mention his tower, or the fact that he had ever been a “robber baron,” but the omission of such trifling details in a brief summary of his period was to be expected. He was mentioned as “an able and experienced officer, never at a loss for an expedient in the midst of the most unpromising circumstances, always cool and collected.”