The suit he wears and the part he plays are just too big for a lacklustre Alan Ladd in this caper, but it is rescued to an extent by a lively effort from Stanley Clements as his wide-boy jockey “Johnny”. “Salty” (Ladd) is in hock to his bookie “Baxter” (Bruce Cabot) for twenty big ones, and with only thirty days to settle up, he’s in desperate straits. He does, however, have an horse and a best pal/trainer “Smitty” (William Demarest) and so all he needs is a light-weight lad to steer their way across the winning line. Initially, the already banned young “Johnny” is up for the task - he likes the sound of the $13,000 he will get for winning, but he’s a recalcitrant kid who rebels by nature. That comes to an head when they tell him he has to go to school. He hates that idea, sasses the teacher (Gail Russell) and is promptly expelled. It falls to “Salty” to get him reinstated and that’s when he meets the teacher and swiftly wants more than an apple. So does “Johnny”. A love triangle, develops, but let’s just say it isn’t equilateral - and that leaves “Salty” vulnerable to the scheming “Baxter” making the impressionable young man a counter-offer. Who will prevail? This is quite a good story with a decent scenario underpinning it, but why on earth did anyone cast Alan Ladd in any role other than the back end of the horse? He brings little charisma to the film and even less to the rapport with the equally unimpressive Russell who rather earnestly out-whinnies the horses (that we very rarely see). The conclusion is rushed and it has a certain clinical brutality to it that made me dislike the leading couple even more. It doesn’t hang around and when Clements is doing his best Mickey Rooney it works well. Otherwise, it’s a flat race rather than a hurdle.