text_original: "Yes, some day, when the railroad's built," replied Neale, thoughtfully. Slingerland's keen eyes quickened. "But the railroad's about done  an' you need a vacation," he insisted. "Yes," Neale answered, dreamily. "Son, mebbe you ought to wait awhile. You're packin' a bullet somewhar in your carcass." "It's here," said Neale, putting his hand to his breast, high up toward the shoulder. "I feel it  a dull, steady, weighty pain.... But that's nothing.
text_transcription: YES SOME DAY WHEN THE RAILROAD'S BUILT REPLIED NEIL THOUGHTFULLY SLINDERLAND'S KEEN EYES QUICKENED BUT THE RAILROAD'S ABOUT DONE AND YOU NEED A VACATION HE INSISTED YES NEO ANSWERED DREAMILY JOHN MAYBE YOU OUGHT TO WAIT A WHILE YOU'RE PACKING A BULLET SOMEWHERE IN YOUR CARCASS IT'S HERE SAID NEIL PUTTING HIS HAND TO HIS BREAST HIGH UP TOWARD THE SHOULDER I FEEL IT A DULL STEADY WEIGHTY PAIN BUT THAT'S NOTHING
phonemes: "jˈɛs, sˌʌm dˈeɪ, wˌɛn ðə ɹˈeɪlɹoʊdz bˈɪlt," ɹᵻplˈaɪd nˈiːl, θˈɔːtfəli. slˈɪŋɡɚləndz kˈiːn ˈaɪz kwˈɪkənd. "bˌʌt ðə ɹˈeɪlɹoʊdz ɐbˌaʊt dˈʌn æn juː nˈiːd ɐ veɪkˈeɪʃən," hiː ɪnsˈɪstᵻd. "jˈɛs," nˈiːl ˈænsɚd, dɹˈiːmili. "sˈʌn, mˈɛb juː ˈɔːt tə wˈeɪt ɐwˈaɪl. jʊɹ pˈækɪn ɐ bˈʊlɪt sˈʌmwɑːɹ ɪn jʊɹ kˈɑːɹkəs." "ɪts hˈɪɹ," sˈɛd nˈiːl, pˈʊɾɪŋ hɪz hˈænd tə hɪz bɹˈɛst, hˈaɪ ˌʌp təwˈɔːɹd ðə ʃˈoʊldɚ. "aɪ fˈiːl ɪɾ ɐ dˈʌl, stˈɛdi, wˈeɪɾi pˈeɪn.... bˌʌt ðæts nˈʌθɪŋ.