Two tough yule lances burst into a hundred splinters.

Then silence ensued, broken after a moment by a storm of applause from the pavilion.
The second course was like the first, save that Max nearly unhorsed Calli by a marvellous helmet stroke.

The stroke loosened Calli's helmet by breaking a throat-strap, but neither he nor his friends seemed to notice the mishap, and the third course was begun without remedying it.
When the champions were within ten yards of each other, a report like the discharge of an arquebuse was heard, coming apparently from beneath the pavilion.

I could not say whence the report came--I was too intent upon the scene in the lists to be thoroughly conscious of happenings elsewhere--but come it did from somewhere, and Max's fine charger plunged forward on the lists, dead.

Max fell over his horse's head and lay half-stunned upon the ground.
Above the din rose a cry, a frantic scream, that fairly pierced my heart.