text_original: Still no hail, nor had our moccasined feet betrayed us as we sought the river side of the fort and drew up before the big river gates of it. Simon Kenton bore against them, and tried the little postern that was set there, but both were fast. The spikes towered a dozen feet overhead.
text_transcription: STILL NO HAIL NOR HAD OUR MOCCASINED FEET BETRAYED US AS WE SOUGHT THE RIVER SIDE OF THE FORT AND DREW UP BEFORE THE BIG RIVER GATES OF IT SIMON KENTON BORE AGAINST THEM AND TRIED THE LITTLE POSTERN THAT WAS SET THERE BUT BOTH WERE FAST THE SPIKES TOWERED A DOZEN FEET OVERHEAD
phonemes: stˈɪl nˈoʊ hˈeɪl, nˈɔːɹ hæd ˌaʊɚ mˈɑːkəsɪnd fˈiːt bᵻtɹˈeɪd ˌʌs æz wiː sˈɔːt ðə ɹˈɪvɚ sˈaɪd ʌvðə fˈɔːɹt ænd dɹˈuː ˌʌp bᵻfˌɔːɹ ðə bˈɪɡ ɹˈɪvɚ ɡˈeɪts ʌv ɪt. sˈaɪmən kˈɛntən bˈɔːɹ ɐɡˈɛnst ðˌɛm, ænd tɹˈaɪd ðə lˈɪɾəl pˈoʊstɚn ðæt wʌz sˈɛt ðˈɛɹ, bˌʌt bˈoʊθ wɜː fˈæst. ðə spˈaɪks tˈaʊɚd ɐ dˈʌzən fˈiːt ˌoʊvɚhˈɛd.