A variant of this story is cited from a Cawnpore newspaper in the Asiatic Journal, vol xv (new series), Part II, October, 1834, p. 78, which is to the following effect: A man named Dabí had a dog called Bhyro, the faithful companion of his travels, who guarded his goods from robbers while he slept. He wished to go to a distant part of the country on a speculation in grain, but had not sufficient funds for this purpose. After much cogitation he at length resolved to pledge his dog for 1000 rupís, and when he applied to several persons was laughed at for his folly; but a wealthy merchant named Dyarám gave the money, on condition that it should be paid back within twelve months, taking the dog Bhyro in pledge. When eleven months had passed the merchant began to bewail the stupidity which had induced him to lend so large a sum on so precarious a security. His relentings were, however, premature. One dark and dreary night he was aroused from his slumbers by a great noise, occasioned by the clashing of swords and the barking of Bhyro. A band of armed men had entered the house with intent to plunder, but before they could effect their purpose they had been observed by the faithful Bhyro, who commenced an attack upon them. Before Dyarám could render any assistance Bhyro had laid two of the robbers dead at his feet; a third, on the approach of Dyarám, aimed a blow at his head, which was prevented from taking effect by Bhyro seizing the ruffian by the throat and laying him prostrate on the ground. After peace was restored Dyarám congratulated himself on having received Bhyro in pledge for Dabí, by which act he not only escaped being plundered, but in all probability murdered. Next morning Dyarám called Bhyro, and, after caressing him, said: “The service you rendered me last night is more than an equivalent for the 1000 rupís I lent your master; go, faithful creature, I give you a free discharge from your obligation as security for him.” Bhyro shook his head in token that it was impossible for him to go until his master returned; but Dyarám, comprehending his meaning, soon arranged matters, by writing a statement of the circumstances, and giving a voucher for the 1000 rupís. This document he tied round Bhyro's neck, which done, Bhyro expressed his delight by leaping about in every direction, and, after licking the hands of Dyarám, darted out of the house and set off in quest of his master. While these scenes were transpiring in Dyarám's house, Dabí was not unmindful of the pledge he had left behind him, and, having succeeded in his speculation, was returning with all haste to redeem it. At his last stage homewards he was surprised to see Bhyro approaching him with every demonstration of joy, but at sight of him Dabí's rage was kindled, and repulsing Bhyro as he fawned upon him he thus addressed him: “O ungrateful wretch! is this the return you have made for my kindness to you? and is this the manner in which you have established my character for veracity? You remained faithful to your trust during eleven months—could you not have held out for thirty short days? You have, by your desertion from your post, entailed dishonour upon me, and for this you shall die.” And, so saying, he drew his sword and slew him. After having committed this deed, he observed a paper tied round Bhyro's neck, and having read it, his grief was indescribable. To atone in some measure for his rash act, he caused poor Bhyro to be buried on the spot where he fell, and a superb monument to be erected over his remains. To the grave of Bhyro, even at the present day, resort natives who have been bitten by dogs, they believing that the dust collected there, when applied to the wounds, is an antidote for hydrophobia.

It will be observed, on comparison, that the chief difference between this version and the Kashmírí story, cited in p. 509, is that in the latter the dog does not venture to attack the robbers, but follows them to the place where they conceal their plunder and next day leads his temporary master to the spot, while in the foregoing the dog Bhyro boldly flies at the rascals, and slays or disables three of them, thus preserving the house from being robbed. The Tamil version has the dog's killing the paramour of the merchant's wife in place of the robbery, and the tragical catastrophe of the suicides of all the characters.

A version given from Oudh, by Mr. G. H. Roberts, of Sítápúr, in Indian Notes and Queries, 1887, p. 150, agrees exactly with the Kashmírí story.