A fellow who cannot throw a flapjack is sadly lacking in the skill one expects to find in a real woodcrafter. A heavy, greasy flapjack is an abomination, but the real article is a joy to make and a joy to eat.
Put a large tin cupful of flour in the pan, add half a teaspoonful of salt, also one heaping teaspoonful and one level teaspoonful of baking powder; mix the salt and baking powder well with the flour while it is dry. Then build your little mountain or volcano of flour with its miniature crater in the middle, into which pour water little by little; making the lava by mixing the dough as you go. Continue this process until all the flour is batter; the batter should be thin enough to spread out rapidly into the form of a pancake when it is poured into the skillet or frying pan, but not watery.
Grease the frying pan with a greasy rag fastened to the end of a stick or with a piece of bacon rind. Remember that the frying pan only needs enough grease to prevent the cake from sticking to the pan; when one fries potatoes the pan should be plentifully supplied with very hot grease, but flapjacks are not potatoes and too much grease makes the cakes unfit to eat. Do not put too much batter in the pan, either; I tried it once and when I flapped the flapjack the hot batter splattered all over my face, and that batter was even hotter than my remarks.
Pour enough batter into the pan to spread almost but not quite over the bottom; when the bubbles come thickly in the middle and the edges begin to smoke a bit, it is time to flap the flapjack. Do so by loosening the edges with a knife blade, then dip the far side of the pan downward and bring it up quickly, sending the cake somersaulting in the air; catch the cake as it falls batter side down and proceed to cook that side.
The penalty of dropping a flapjack in the fire is to be made to eat it without wiping off the ashes.