Emperor Akbar was amazingly brave and strong. On one occasion， he fought a tiger single - handedly. On another， he rode a maddened elephant and bought it under control， even though he almost died in the attempt. The emperor admired those who had as much stamina and courage as he did. One cold January day， he sent messengers through the city of Agra to announce a contest. “He who can spend the entire night standing chest-deep in the icy waters of the Yamuna river”， declared the messengers， “shall be awarded one hundred gold coins by the emperor himself！”

　　There was great excitement all through the city. Athletes and wrestlers and war-toughened soldiers all wanted to try their luck. Some oiled their bodies well so that they would be protected from the cold water. Others ate fistfuls of almonds， which were said to warm the blood. A few drank flasks of wine all through the day in an effort to warm themselves for the ordeal. As night fell， hundreds of men of all ages waded into the river. Among them was a poor stonemason， who needed enough money to pay for his son's education. He was too poor to buy almonds to eat， or oil to rub over himself， but he was determined to win the money for his beloved child.

　　As night wore on and the river water began to get colder， a large number of men began to leave. By midnight， only a handful were left. Their friends called encouragingly to them from the river bank. One by one， even they began to leave. they could not stand the icy chill that set in during the last few hours before dawn. By the time the first rays of the sun lit the battlements of the fort， only the stonemason was still in the river. He was so cold， he could not move. His friends had to help him out of the water and revive him with a massage and a hot drink and wrap him in a blanket.

　　That evening， as the emperor prepared for the evening durbar in the Diwan-i-Am， one spiteful courtier said， “Jahanpanah， the prize you are about to award was not won by fair means.”

　　“Oh？” said Emperor Akbar. “And how is that？”

　　“Huzoor'， said the man， his eyes glittering with malice. ”It is said that the man drew warmth and comfort from the sight of the lamplight from the palace. If he was warmed by the lamps of the palace， then he did not truly withstand the icy waters of the river. He won the contest by unfair means， Huzoor！“

　　Emperor Akbar began to think. Could the courtier be right？ It was strange that the stonemason had succeeded when all the wrestlers and athletes and soldiers had failed. He was so busy thinking and wondering that he did not notice Raja Birbal slipping away.

　　It was some time later that Akbar decided to ask Birbal for his advice， and found that he was not there. The emperor frowned. Messengers were dispatched to summon him at once. They returned with a message from Birbal to say he was waiting for his meal of khichri to be ready， and would join them shortly. An hour went by. The time for the durbar was drawing close and the emperor wanted Birbal to be present. More messengers were sent to call him. They returned with the same message. Birbal was waiting for his khichchri to be cooked. “Khichchri does not take so long！” the emperor said angrily. He decided to go to Birbal's house to find out what the matter was. He found Birbal on the terrace of his house. In front of him was a pot， filled to the brim with water， rice and lentils. The pot was set in a wooden frame which was tilted so that the bottom of the pot faced the Emperor's palace.

　　“Birbal， have you gone completely mad？” Emperor Akbar roared as Birbal rose to greet him.

　　“Huzoor， if the poor stonemason was able to warm himself by the light of the lamps in the royal palace， then surely that same heat will cook my khichchri， especially since I am so much closer to the royal lamplight”， Birbal said quietly.

　　In reply， the emperor put his arm around Birbal and asked the treasurer to hand him the bag of the gold coins. “You shall have the honor of holding the award when I present it to the stonemason this evening”， he said. Then， pulling off the rope of perfectly matched pearls which he wore around his neck， he slid it over Birbal's head. “And now， shall we proceed to the durbar？” he said leading the way down the stairs.

　　“Huzoor”， Birbal murmured in gratitude as he followed his emperor down the stairs. Together they walked towards the Diwan-i-Am where the stonemason was waiting，。

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