While all this stir was going on some of the friends noticed that the dog was much agitated, and was every now and then pulling at their garments. Many drove him off, and even the Banker said, “As if I had not worry enough without being annoyed by a dog which does not belong to me!”
Then the Banker told all his friends how he came to be possessed of the dog which belonged to a Banjāra. Shortly afterwards an old man of the party, who knew the quick intelligence of these Banjāra dogs, said, “I think the dog knows more than you give him credit for; look! he has come to me, and I shall go where he leads me.” Soon others followed in the train, and the dog went knowingly along the road until he came to a dead stop near a tank, and went in. The old man said, “There is something here, depend upon it; let some young man go into the tank and make a search.”
This was done, and lo and behold! one bag of rupees was brought up out of the tank, and then another, and another, until all had been recovered that the Banker had lost.
Then came shoutings and congratulations from all the people upon this wonderful discovery, and loud praises were lavished on the Banjāra’s dog who had found out the hiding-place of the thieves. The Banker himself was so overcome with delight that he gave presents to his friends all round, and then looking at “Kaloo” he said, “You faithful dog! you most blessed of all securities! I shall now write out a receipt in full for the money your master owes me, and tell him all that you have done, and you yourself shall be the bearer of the good news to him.”
This he at once did, and tied the receipt and the letter on to the collar of the dog, and giving him a good feed he dismissed him to his master with many smiles and blessings.
“Kaloo,” thus released by authority, and proud of having done his duty, ran off with great joy to seek his master.
It was not long ere he saw his master hurriedly returning to the city, and running up to him he began to play round about him, and to show every sign of interest and affection. To “Kaloo’s” dismay, however, his master did not respond, but on the contrary, was in great anger, and much disappointed that his hitherto faithful dog had, as he thought, broken his chain and run away from the Banker’s house, where he had lodged him as security. In a loud voice he said, “Kaloo,’ you are a ‘Namak Harram’ (traitor to your salt); did I not tell you to wait till I released you? But instead of that you have disobeyed me, disgraced my name, and I can no longer have any confidence in you, and you are not fit to live.” Whereupon he at once drew his “talwār” (sword) from its scabbard, and at one cut severed poor “Kaloo’s” head from his body. “Wretched dog!” he said, “This is the first time I have known you to deceive me, and you richly deserve your fate.” Stooping down, his eye suddenly caught sight of a piece of paper tied to the dog’s collar, and hastily opening it he discovered to his utmost dismay that it was the Banker’s receipt in full for all the money that he owed him, and with the receipt was a letter, yes! a letter, describing how that the faithful dog had been the means of his recovering all the property that some thieves had stolen from his house on the same night of his departure from the city.
Plunged at once into the direst horror and grief at what he had done, and alone on the road with his faithful friend dead before his eyes, he could not resist the impulse, and seizing the open talwār he thrust it into his own body, and so perished by the side of his favourite. In this state were they found, and the story of the Banjāra and his dog, and the spot where they died, have ever since been treasured up in the memories of the people.
Moral, or “Nasihut”: Keep always a steel-plate upon your temper, and a “Rothâs” bridle on your tongue, which you know is the strongest of all, and never give way to rash and impulsive acts.