All I can say is, that its needle staggered about, helpless and useless.

And in fact the exact location of the Antarctic Sphinx mattered little in respect of the constitution of that artificial loadstone, and the manner in which the clouds and metallic lode supplied its attractive power.
In this very plausible fashion I was led to explain the phenomenon by instinct.

It could not be doubted that we were in the vicinity of a magnet which produced these terrible but strictly natural effects by its attraction.
I communicated my idea to my companions, and they regarded this explanation as conclusive, in presence of the physical facts of which we were the actual witnesses.
"We shall incur no risk by going to the foot of the mound, I suppose," said Captain Len Guy.
"None," I replied.
"There--yes--here ?" I could not describe the impression those three words made upon us.
Edgar Poe would have said that they were three cries from the depths of the under world.
It was Dirk Peters who had spoken, and his body was stretched out in the direction of the sphinx, as though it had been turned to iron and was attracted by the magnet.
Then he sped swiftly towards the sphinx-like mound, and his companions followed him over rough ground strewn with volcanic remains of all sorts.
The monster grew larger as we neared it, but lost none of its mythological shape.

Alone on that vast plain it produced a sense of awe.

And--but this could only have been a delusionr--we seemed to be drawn towards it by the force of its magnetic attraction.
On arriving at the base of the mound, we found there the various articles on which the magnet had exerted its power; arms, utensils, the grapnel of the _Paracuta_, all adhering to the sides of the monster.