text_original: No man cared so little as the Pale Face Chief. When their eyes were turned from the fitful blaze of the logs, the gala light of many candles greeted them. And above the sound of their own speeches rose the merrier note of the fiddle.
text_transcription: NO MAN CARED SO LITTLE AS THE PALE FACED CHIEF WHEN THEIR EYES WERE TURNED FROM THE FITFUL BLAZE OF THE LOGS THE GALLOW LIGHT OF MANY CANDLES GREETED THEM AND ABOVE THE SOUND OF THEIR OWN SPEECHES ROSE THE MERRIER NOTE OF THE FIDDLE
phonemes: nˈoʊ mˈæn kˈɛɹd sˌoʊ lˈɪɾəl æz ðə pˈeɪl fˈeɪs tʃˈiːf. wˌɛn ðɛɹ ˈaɪz wɜː tˈɜːnd fɹʌmðə fˈɪtfəl blˈeɪz ʌvðə lˈɔɡz, ðə ɡˈeɪlə lˈaɪt ʌv mˈɛni kˈændəlz ɡɹˈiːɾᵻd ðˌɛm. ænd əbˌʌv ðə sˈaʊnd ʌv ðɛɹ ˈoʊn spˈiːtʃᵻz ɹˈoʊz ðə mˈɛɹiɚ nˈoʊt ʌvðə fˈɪdəl.