"Now," she said, "if you are not afraid, we will enter."

"I am afraid," I answered. Indeed, the terror which struck me then
returns, so that even as I write I feel fear of the dead man who lay,
and for aught I know still lies, within that grave. "Yet," I added,
"never will I face Iduna more without the necklace, if it can be found."

So we struck sparks on to the tinder, and from them lit the two lamps
of seal oil. Then I crept into the hole, Freydisa following me, to find
myself in a narrow passage built of rough stones and roofed with flat
slabs of water-worn rock. This tunnel, save for a little dry soil that
had sifted into it through the cracks between the stones, was quite
clear. We crawled along it without difficulty till we came to the tomb
chamber, which was in the centre of the mound, but at a higher level
than the entrance. For the passage sloped upwards, doubtless to allow
for drainage. The huge stones with which it was lined and roofed over,
were not less than ten feet high and set on end side by side. One of
these upright stones was that designed for the door. Had it been in
place, we could not have entered the chamber without great labour and
the help of many men; but, as it chanced, either it had never been set
up after the burial, or this was done so hastily that it had fallen.

"We are in luck's way," said Freydisa, when she noticed this. "No,
I will go first, who know more of ghosts than you do, Olaf. If the
Wanderer strikes, let him strike me," and she clambered over the fallen
slab.

Presently she called back, saying:

"Come; all is quiet here, as it should be in such a place."