The boy gave a start when he heard that the wooden man said “Your Majesty.”  For now, when he thought about it, he knew that the statue on the square represented the one who had founded the city.  It was probably no less an one than Charles the Eleventh himself, whom he had encountered.

“He gives a good account of himself,” said the bronze man.  “Can he also tell me if he has seen a little brat who runs around in the city to-night?  He’s an impudent rascal, if I get hold of him, I’ll teach him manners!” With that, he again pounded on the ground with his stick, and looked fearfully angry.

“By Your Majesty’s leave, I have seen him,” said the wooden man; and the boy was so scared that he commenced to shake where he sat under the hat and looked at the bronze man through a crack in the wood.  But he calmed down when the wooden man continued:  “Your Majesty is on the wrong track.  That youngster certainly intended to run into the shipyard, and conceal himself there.”

“Does he say so, Rosenbom?  Well then, don’t stand still on the pedestal any longer but come with me and help me find him.  Four eyes are better than two, Rosenbom.”

But the wooden man answered in a doleful voice:  “I would most humbly beg to be permitted to stay where I am.  I look well and sleek because of the paint, but I’m old and mouldy, and cannot stand moving about.”

The bronze man was not one of those who liked to be contradicted.  “What sort of notions are these?  Come along, Rosenbom!” Then he raised his stick and gave the other one a resounding whack on the shoulder.  “Does Rosenbom not see that he holds together?”

With that they broke off and walked forward on the streets of Karlskrona—­large and mighty—­until they came to a high gate, which led to the shipyard.  Just outside and on guard walked one of the navy’s jack-tars, but the bronze man strutted past him and kicked the gate open without the jack-tar’s pretending to notice it.

As soon as they had gotten into the shipyard, they saw before them a wide, expansive harbor separated by pile-bridges.  In the different harbour basins, lay the warships, which looked bigger, and more awe-inspiring close to, like this, than lately, when the boy had seen them from up above.  “Then it wasn’t so crazy after all, to imagine that they were sea-trolls,” thought he.

“Where does Rosenbom think it most advisable for us to begin the search?” said the bronze man.

“Such an one as he could most easily conceal himself in the hall of models,” replied the wooden man.

On a narrow land-strip which stretched to the right from the gate, all along the harbour, lay ancient structures.  The bronze man walked over to a building with low walls, small windows, and a conspicuous roof.  He pounded on the door with his stick until it burst open; and tramped up a pair of worn-out steps.  Soon they came into a large hall, which was filled with tackled and full-rigged little ships.  The boy understood without being told, that these were models for the ships which had been built for the Swedish navy.