The determination of Cortez to conquer Mexico became stronger than ever after this bitter defeat. He immediately set to work to re-enforce his army by making friends with tribes who had suffered oppression from the powerful Aztecs. Fresh troops also arrived from Spain, and in a year after the sad night, Cortez saw conquered Mexico at his feet, and its great cities in the hands of Spanish soldiers. The temples stained with the blood of so many unfortunate victims were overthrown, and in their places churches were built, with towers bearing the sign of the cross. Idolatry and human sacrifice on Mexican soil were ended forever.
A brighter morning never dawned on the little township of Greenville than that of a certain day in the summer of '81. The sun rose with a fierce glare, boding intense heat before night-fall. Every ray seemed like a fiery dart sent down to destroy the few lingering traces of verdure, for rain had not fallen in weeks, and plants and animals were alike consumed with thirst.
The sun had wide range for havoc on Mr. Leonard's farm, and it blazed relentlessly down upon his well-tilled acres, upon his roomy barns and stables, which sheltered the panting cattle, and upon a little "root-house," used as a storage for winter vegetables, that stood half underground and covered with earth. But on this retreat the tyrant cast his beams in vain. The shadowy room within was delightfully cool, and there in the doorway lay little Scott, the five-year-old baby of the household, with his chin resting on two chubby palms, his elbows planted in the damp earth, and heels beating the air, intently watching a swarm of ants. The old root-house had been a favorite haunt of the little fellow during the hot, sultry days of summer, for it was so near the kitchen that he never felt lonely there.
"Breakfast 'most ready, Ruthie?" he called out, still surveying the interesting ant colony.
"Almost, little man," said sister Ruth, appearing at the porch door to see what the small lord was about.
Ruth Leonard made a charming picture as she stood there shading her eyes with her hand, framed in by a clustering mass of honeysuckle vines. Yet no one called her a pretty girl. Though only sixteen, she was very tall and strong for her age; every well-formed limb indicated the possession of muscular strength, and her broad shoulders seemed just fitted to bear burdens. Her thick brown hair was brushed plainly back from a low forehead and braided, but the braid was oftener coiled up in a loose knot to "get it out of the way." Not a suspicion of a curl was to be seen, for Ruth always forgot to "put up her hair," and Nature had evidently intended it to hang straight. A pair of keen gray eyes that often grew dark with unsatisfied longing, yet hid in their depths a world of conscious power, a straight nose, and full red lips, complete the picture--a picture which had become to father and mother as their daily bread.