Dale filled it at the spring.

Upon returning to the camp-fire he poured water into a washbasin, and, getting down to his knees, proceeded to wash his hands thoroughly.

The act seemed a habit, for Helen saw that while he was doing it he gazed off into the woods and listened.

Then he dried his hands over the fire, and, turning to the spread-out pack, he began preparations for the meal.
Suddenly Helen thought of the man and all that his actions implied.
At Magdalena, on the stage-ride, and last night, she had trusted this stranger, a hunter of the White Mountains, who appeared ready to befriend her.

And she had felt an exceeding gratitude.