text_original: The sun crept higher, the magic of his rays turning the creek from black to crystal, and the birds began to sing again. And still there was no sign of the treacherous enemy that lurked about us. Could Tom get back? I glanced at Polly Ann.
text_transcription: THE SUN CREPT HIGHER THE MAGIC OF HIS RAYS TURNING TO CREEK FROM BLACK TO CRYSTAL AND THE BIRDS BEGAN TO SING AGAIN AND STILL THERE WAS NO SIGN OF THE TREACHEROUS ENEMY THAT LURKED ABOUT US COULD TOM GET BACK I GLANCED AT POLLYAN
phonemes: ðə sˈʌn kɹˈɛpt hˈaɪɚ, ðə mˈædʒɪk ʌv hɪz ɹˈeɪz tˈɜːnɪŋ ðə kɹˈiːk fɹʌm blˈæk tə kɹˈɪstəl, ænd ðə bˈɜːdz bɪɡˈæn tə sˈɪŋ ɐɡˈɛn. ænd stˈɪl ðɛɹwˌʌz nˈoʊ sˈaɪn ʌvðə tɹˈɛtʃɚɹəs ˈɛnəmi ðæt lˈɜːkt ɐbˈaʊt ˌʌs. kʊd tˈɑːm ɡɛt bˈæk? aɪ ɡlˈænst æt pˈɑːli ˈæn.