At the fifth or sixth blow the pickaxe struck against an iron substance.

Never did funeral knell, never did alarm-bell, produce a greater effect on the hearer.
Had Dantes found nothing he could not have become more ghastly pale.
He again struck his pickaxe into the earth, and encountered the same resistance, but not the same sound.

"It is a casket of wood bound with iron," thought he.

At this moment a shadow passed rapidly before the opening; Dantes seized his gun, sprang through the opening, and mounted the stair.

A wild goat had passed before the mouth of the cave, and was feeding at a little distance.