text_original: Weldon bent over. "My God!" he whispered hoarsely, "he hit one. Tom hit one." I felt Polly Ann's hand on my face. "Davy dear," she said, "are ye hurt?" "No," said I, dazed, and wondering why Weldon had not been shot long ago as he slumbered. I was burning to climb the bank and ask him whether he had seen the Indian fall. Again there was silence,  a silence even more awful than before.
text_transcription: WELDON BENT OVER MY GOD HE WHISPERED HOARSELY HE HIT ONE TOM HIT ONE I FELT POLLY ANNE'S HAND ON MY FACE DAVY DEAR SHE SAID ARE YOU HURT NO SAID I DAZED AND WONDERING WHY WELDON HAD NOT BEEN SHOT LONG AGO AS HE SLUMBERED I WAS BURNING TO CLIMB THE BANK AND ASK HIM WHETHER HE HAD SEEN THE INDIAN FALL AGAIN THERE WAS SILENCE A SILENCE EVEN MORE AWFUL THAN BEFORE
phonemes: wˈɛldən bˈɛnt ˈoʊvɚ. "maɪ ɡˈɑːd!" hiː wˈɪspɚd hˈɔːɹsli, "hiː hˈɪt wˌʌn. tˈɑːm hˈɪt wˌʌn." aɪ fˈɛlt pˈɑːli ˈænz hˈænd ˌɔn maɪ fˈeɪs. "dˈeɪvi dˈɪɹ," ʃiː sˈɛd, "ɑːɹ jiː hˈɜːt?" "nˈoʊ," sˈɛd ˈaɪ, dˈeɪzd, ænd wˈʌndɚɹɪŋ wˌaɪ wˈɛldən hæd nˌɑːt bˌɪn ʃˈɑːt lˈɔŋ ɐɡˈoʊ æz hiː slˈʌmbɚd. aɪ wʌz bˈɜːnɪŋ tə klˈaɪm ðə bˈæŋk ænd ˈæsk hˌɪm wˈɛðɚ hiː hæd sˈiːn ðɪ ˈɪndiən fˈɔːl. ɐɡˈɛn ðɛɹwˌʌz sˈaɪləns,  ɐ sˈaɪləns ˈiːvən mˈɔːɹ ˈɔːfəl ðɐn bᵻfˈɔːɹ.