"Indian" Butler was in general command of the whole, and Queen Esther was the high priestess of the Indians, continually making fiery speeches and chanting songs that made the warriors see red.

Upon the rear of this extraordinary army hung a band of fierce old squaws, from whom every remnant of mercy and Gentleness had departed.
From a high rock overlooking a valley the five saw "Indian" Butler's force start for its final march upon Wyoming.

It was composed of many diverse elements, and perhaps none more bloodthirsty ever trod the soil of America.

In some preliminary skirmish a son of Queen Esther had been slain, and now her fury knew no limits.

She took her place at the very head of the army, whirling her great tomahawk about her head, and neither "Indian" Butler nor Thayendanegea dared to interfere with her in anything great or small.
Henry and his comrades, as they left their rock and hastened toward the valley of Wyoming, felt that now they were coming into contact with the great war itself.