a path of sorts ran across the high hills , and we followed it and encountered almost nobody : a tinker and his donkey , piled high with old pots , and a girl leading the donkey , who smiled at me when she thought me to be a child , and then scowled when she perceived me to be what i am , and would have thrown a stone at me had the tinker not slapped her hand with the switch he had been using to encourage the donkey ; and , later , we overtook an old woman and a man she said was her grandson , on their way back across the hills .