text_original: "Damn the sly varmints," cried Tom, and he turned over the North Wind with his foot, as a log. With a grunt of fury the Indian shed his blanket and scrambled to his feet, and stood glaring at us through his paint.
text_transcription: DAMN THE SLY HERMITS CRIED TOM AND HE TURNED OVER THE NORTH WIND WITH HIS FOOT AS A LOG WITH A GRUNT OF FURY THE INDIAN SHED HIS BLANKET AND SCRAMBLED TO HIS FEET AND STOOD GLARING AT US THROUGH HIS PAINT
phonemes: "dˈæm ðə slˈaɪ vˈɑːɹmɪnts," kɹˈaɪd tˈɑːm, ænd hiː tˈɜːnd ˌoʊvɚ ðə nˈɔːɹθ wˈɪnd wɪð hɪz fˈʊt, æz ɐ lˈɔɡ. wɪð ɐ ɡɹˈʌnt ʌv fjˈʊɹɹi ðɪ ˈɪndiən ʃˈɛd hɪz blˈæŋkɪt ænd skɹˈæmbəld tə hɪz fˈiːt, ænd stˈʊd ɡlˈɛɹɪŋ æɾ ˌʌs θɹuː hɪz pˈeɪnt.