"Who but your son Perry?" answered the cheerful Doctor Voss. "You were both wrapped together for a long while in the bottom of the cove!"
"My son!" exclaimed Judge Whaley, scarcely understanding the reply. "Who is my son?"
"Here, father! We are both alive. Thank God!"
"My son?" muttered Judge Whaley. "Brave son! Who is it?"
"Why, Perry Whaley!" answered the good housewife. "His arms are around your neck. Those warm kisses were his!"
The sick man glared about him till his eye fell on the boy.
"Ha!" he whispered. "By you. Had I awakened in heaven would you have been there, too?"
The Judge sank back into a moment's insensibility, and the son sat there sobbing piteously.
Though saved from the wave Judge Whaley had a long following spell of fever, in which his son nursed him for many weeks, and once the spark of life seemed to have fled; the Judge's pulse stopped still, and while they were at solemn prayer—the rector of the Episcopal Church reading from his book—Perry cried: "He still lives. It is the medicine he needs!"
After the second resuscitation Dr. Voss remarked: "It is not often, Judge Whaley, that a man's life is twice saved by his son!"