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Updated: May 29, 2025
"Lucy, it's a crazy business," said Drummond. "Sometimes I think it's all a pipedream of that nutty old prospector. They're all bughouse these old desert rats." "It's not a pipedream," Lucy stoutly maintained. "I tell you I saw the blue tattoo marks on that woman's scalp when I was beautifying her up for the ball that night. I wondered what they were.
Then it went end-over-end, again and again. I think most of us blacked out; I'm sure I did, for a while. Finally, more by good luck than good management, he got us turned around with the wind behind us. That lasted for a while, and then we started keyholing again. I could see the instrument panel from where I'd lashed myself fast; it was going completely bughouse.
I'm getting 'em so bad that when I hear some folks talk bughouse these days it pretty near listens like good sense to me. Why, kid, I'm nut enough now to dangle over the edge of believing you know what you're talking about!" "Fall over: I know I know what I'm talking about," said Laurence magnificently.
Thomas was contentedly munching the last crumbs of the bread and fowl when the enchanter appeared suddenly at his side. "Are you willing to return to your old home if you are assured of a welcome and restoration to favor?" he asked, with his courteous, royal smile. "Do I look bughouse?" answered Thomas. "Enough of the footback life for me. But will they have me again?
He tried to catch the ball in his bare right hand and muffed it, Hanley got to second on the play while the audience roared. When they got through there was some roaring among the Rochester players. Scott and Captain Healy roared at Red, and Red roared back at them. "It's all off. Red never did that before," cried Delaney in despair. "He's gone clean bughouse now."
Dope one of the guards to-night. There's Barnum. He's no good. He beat up that crazy Chink yesterday in Bughouse Alley when he was off duty, too. He's on the night watch. Dope him to-night an' make him lose his job. Show me, and we'll talk business with you." All this Long Bill told me in the dungeons afterward. Cecil Winwood demurred against the immediacy of the demonstration.
His voice cracked. "You're all alike! Get a man on his back and then put the screws on him!" I made no reply; only a great compassion for this mistaken and miserable creature surged like a wave over my heart. "For God's sake don't stand there staring like a bughouse owl!" he gritted. "Well, what you going to do? Bawl for the bulls? What put you wise?" "Help you to get well. No.
Frog is our old battle horse in this constituency. And this is our campaign secretary Mr. Bughouse, and Mr. Dope, and Mr. Mudd, et cetera." Those may not have been their names. It is merely what the names sounded like when one was looking into their faces. The Candidate introduced them all as battle horses, battle axes, battle leaders, standard bearers, flag-holders, and so forth.
Of course he has no individual way of telling whether the defendant "knew right from wrong," whatever that may mean, and so the ultimate test that he applies is apt to be whether or not the defendant is really "queer," "nutty" or "bughouse," or some other equally intelligible equivalent far "medically insane."
"Aw, cut out the tragedy stuff," said Vic, "and don't be an ass. Good-night." Vic turned on his heel and left McNish standing in a dull and dazed condition, and made his way toward the ballroom. "Who is the Johnny, anyway?" he said to himself. "He is mad looney utterly bughouse. Needs a keeper in the worst way. But what about the Captain must think up something. Let's see. Taken suddenly ill?
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